Shared Soul
by Sings-off-key
Summary: BG2 TOB. If Keeta had known the implications of sharing her soul with her fearsome brother Sarevok, would she have dared? PC x Sarevok. Completely revised and finally completed after long hiatus.
1. Resurrection

_Author's Note: It seems like a lifetime ago when I started this story and now, finally, it is finished. I apologize for the long delay and I doubly apologize to any who have this on alert. I hope you don't get spammed with updates. I have made many changes and every chapter is affected. (The major changes start around Ch. 8) This tale is now as close to my original vision as I have the skill to make it. I have no idea if anyone will have the patience to read through this again-if you do, I'd love to hear from you! Enjoy, and please, feel free to leave feedback—that makes this all worthwhile._

_Disclaimer: Baldur's Gate belongs to the talented people at BioWare and not me, alas. I don't own the Forgotten Realms either, darn it, that's Wizards of the Coast. I guess I get to keep Keeta, an original character._

**Ch. 1…Resurrection**

I was tired, hungry and (I hate to say it) scared. I hadn't had a decent meal since Suldanessellar and I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a decent night's sleep. My gauntlets, thrust in my belt now, were still tacky with the blood of the bounty hunters who'd ambushed us in the forest. Before we could even loot the bodies, a celestial being, wings and all, swooped down upon us. She uttered a few cryptic warnings and dumped us in the Abyss. No exits in sight. And now my dead brother's ghost wanted a chunk of my soul so he could come back to life.

As days go, this one was shaping up to be a real dandy.

"Take my hand, Keeta," commanded my dead brother. His insubstantial fingers reached for me. I flinched and took a step back. Even in death, Sarevok was intimidating. He towered over me like few humans could and his ghastly undead eyes glowed with eager fire. My hand dropped to my sword hilt. Had I really agreed to this? I'd already killed him twice. If I killed him again—three times the charm—would he be gone forever out of my life?

My companions were a ring of anxious faces. Sarevok Anchev, Deathbringer, usurper of the Iron Throne, and (briefly) one of the Grand Dukes of Baldur's Gate, smiled when he saw my fingers convulse on the cool hilt. It wasn't a nice smile. Not nice at all.

"That sword of yours is not the key to the lock that imprisons you here."

"Maybe so, but killing you would feel pretty good."

"I am already dead, fool."

Well, there was that.

"Will you throw away all your lives for a petty revenge?" he asked.

"Just kill him already," Imoen said. "He's lying. We'll figure a way out of here."

I wasn't so sure about that. I'd been here before, in this very pit of the Abyss. Recently, in fact. My soul had been dragged here by a mad elven wizard, and before I could escape I'd had to pass a series of tests. This had the feel of another such test. The Solar who brought us here had even hinted as much.

"Will you, sister? I have learned much of this place during my own—incarceration. Do you have the time to discover its secrets?"

"You're not my brother!" Imoen said.

"It surprises me too," he said drily. His eyes flicked back to me. "Surely you do not deny our relationship."

"No." He was a child of the Lord of Murder, just as I was. He'd reached for Bhaal's throne while I'd fought those who sought to use my power but both of our lives had been dominated by the dead god who sired us.

"Death did not strip me of the knowledge I gained in life," he said to me. "I may not be privy to all that has happened to you since my death but neither am I blind. The time of Alaundo's prophecies is upon you now, or you would not be here. There are few, if any, still alive who know more than I do of these prophecies. And my—condition—has taught me more of this place than you have any hope of learning on your own." He gestured with his hand at the strangeness around us. "You stand now in the cocoon plane you created from our father's realm yet you know not how you created it."

A cocoon plane, he called it. To me, the word 'cocoon' calls up the image of a cozy haven, a place for growth and change. The bare stone underfoot, the unsettling statues that sprouted in random abandonment like mad trees in a deranged grove, and the low undercurrent of formless sound (so like whispers from the tormented dead) did not add up to a warm and cozy atmosphere.

This felt more like a tomb.

"I know that you have power here," he said. "And I know that you do not know how to use that power. I can teach you this."

Power comes with knowledge, the Solar had said. I felt the echoes of her words like the distant clanging of a prison gate slamming shut. I didn't want power but I was going to have to do this. I could feel the inevitability shiver through me.

He took a step closer and looked down at me. He had been a big man, my brother Bhaalspawn—at least a whole head taller than me, and I am accounted a tall woman.

"You need what I can teach you," he said. "Without my knowledge of the Abyss and of the prophecies that bind you, you will not survive the times that come."

"You know you can't trust him, Keeta. He wants your _soul_!" Imoen wailed. "Don't do it."

"I am no demon to trade in souls," he said. His eyes bored into me. "Bhaal's taint was stripped from me when I died but it runs thick and potent in you, sister. Here, in Bhaal's domain—in _your_ domain—you could return a spark of that divinity to me. The slightest touch of the taint of our dead father would allow you—us—to recreate my flesh and restore my mortality."

He said that like it was a good thing.

I glanced at my companions. Imoen had drawn closer to Jaheira, whose face was set in lines of angry denial. Jaheira had already voted and she was strongly opposed. Neither Anomen nor Keldorn, knights of the Order of the Radiant Heart, had known Sarevok in life but they were familiar with his crimes and they both looked troubled.

"Come now, Keeta, give me your hand."

"If I refuse?"

"I cannot compel you. Some things cannot be stolen but only freely given. If the mage who first sent you here had understood that—"

"Do not speak of Jon Irenicus," I snapped. I carefully did not look at Imoen. I didn't have to look to see her flinch. We all had suffered at the mad mage's hands but she had been under his power the longest. The wounds on her body had faded to scars but the wounds to her spirit ran much deeper.

"He is irrelevant," Sarevok said. "You killed him."

Yeah, well if Irenicus' ghost popped up and demanded another piece of my soul, I'd be feeding him my githyanki silver sword. No debate. As the githyanki say, we'd speak with blades for tongues. And as much as I wanted to feed Sarevok same sword, I took my hand off its hilt and I held it out to him.

"Let's get this over with," I said.

* * *

I braced myself for pain. When Jon Irenicus ripped my divine soul from me, it had hurt like Nine Hells. Sarevok wrapped his insubstantial fingers around my wrist. My hand went numb. The cold of the grave crept over me, running up my arm and into my body. Sarevok leaned into me. His eyes burned, evil red fires, not the golden discs they had been when he lived. His face was eager.

I've seen much death in my life. I've delivered many a soul to Kelemvor's judgment. I have no particular fear of death but I do have an almost phobic aversion for undeath, in all its myriad horrid forms. To step out of the natural cycle of life and death is just wrong. To restore Sarevok to life—would this reverse the perversion of his undeath? Or was I about to compound the wrongness?

My heart should have been racing with fear but its beats felt slow, muffled. Sarevok leaned into me. He whispered, and I wasn't sure if I heard his words in my ears or in my head. _Join your will to mine_. He stood as close as a lover and he wrapped his death around me like a shroud.

I could feel Sarevok's death and it was not the peaceful place I'd been taught was the reward for faithful service to one's god. Sarevok had served no god but himself. It was a cold and tortured hell he suffered, a bleak place of his own making. I heard an echo of the quiet wails of the spirits who haunted this plane: Retribution. His spirit encased an empty hunger that I knew all too well—the same emptiness I'd felt when Jon Irenicus had stripped my divine soul from me and left me dying from the inside out.

I thrashed in panic. I'd shared my soul once before although not by choice. What made me believe Sarevok was any less greedy than the mage who had ripped the god's power from me and left me for dead? And I had consented to this. I must be the biggest fool in all Faerûn.

_Join your will to mine_. Sarevok's words were insistent. The Solar had said something about joining, that the time of joining was near. Was this what she meant? Sarevok's divine soul was gone, leaving him hollowed out, empty and starving. I knew this feeling. I had been hollowed out while I was still living. But I had regained my soul. And now, I was to share it with Sarevok? A man I hated more than any man living?

Sarevok twined himself around me so I couldn't pull away but my need for escape was desperate. Not again—gods, no, I could not face that emptiness again.

But he, too, was desperate.

_I will have my life back. You will give it to me_.

He had said he knew how to recreate his flesh but he had lied. As his cold sank into me, I could feel what he felt. All he had was the desperate hope that it could be done and the belief that I could do it.

_I can't._

_You are a god here and you can give me life if you will it so._

_I am no god!_

_You could be. Deny it if you like but I know the truth. _A beat and then his words continued, harsh and certain_. What's more, you know it too, Slayer._

_Don't call me that._

_Here, you are the avatar of our dead father. Give me life. Give back that which you stole from me._

Anger and hatred—I felt them boil off him in a toxic cloud. Anger at his fate, at all that had been taken from him—taken by me, or so he believed. And his hatred, so personal, was centered on me. I had good reasons to hate him after all he had done—he had killed my father before my very eyes and that was just the beginning—but his own hatred took me aback. I'd been so busy hating him that it never really occurred to me that he would have feelings too. It seemed unjust that he should hate me so. Anything I had done to him was in direct response to what he had done to me first. How it galled him to be dependent on me. The heat of his rage warmed the sluggish blood in my veins.

_Live, then, damn you. Live. But you will not take my soul from me. It is mine and I shall keep it._

My thoughts were too slow. The monster within me—the part Sarevok called the Slayer—roused like a startled sleeper. Before I could force it back to its uneasy rest, Bhaal's blood rose—hot and eager and terribly, terribly hungry. Sarevok reached for the monster with his cold emptiness. I fell into his burning eyes, into the hellish furnace of his hate, his fear and above all, his iron determination to live at any cost.

I woke to find Anomen kneeling beside me and Sarevok standing over me, his face transfigured by the only joy I had ever seen him express.

"I live!" Sarevok cried. Not just his eyes, but his face, his posture, everything about him rang with ecstatic satisfaction. He showed no awareness of our stares. "I swore I would scratch and crawl my way back into the world of the living and I have done it!"

The Slayer was not gone—it was never truly gone—but it had scuttled back to some dark quiet fastness in my soul. Perhaps (like me) it had been terrified by what had just happened. My soul had just been reaved by my Bhaalspawn brother and I had allowed it to happen. I didn't want to think about that. But it had worked. His eyes were golden moons again, not red pits of fire. Sometimes my eyes glowed like that, or so I was told.

Unfortunately the miracle that knit back his flesh had neglected to provide my brother with any clothes. He was naked as a newborn babe.

Unlike a newborn babe, he had scars and plenty of them. So do I. I'm a warrior and even though I travel with the most powerful priest I've ever met and am rich enough to afford the finest healing potions, not every wound heals without a trace. Surely if I was to recreate my body, I'd try to leave the scars of the past behind me. But then, I've always been vague on the mechanics of resurrection. Although my god, Lathander, doesn't precisely forbid such practices, His expectation is that only a devastatingly powerful purpose should recall a worshipper from His side. I know other gods have different expectations but that was the way I'd been taught.

Not that my beliefs matter. When I die, Bhaal will claim me. I can only hope—well, there's really no point in thinking about it.

Anomen helped me sit up.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I warned. Anomen handed me his water skin. I sipped stale water until the nausea passed. To my side, Jaheira stood in a rigid pose, stiff with anger and disapproval. There was something almost comforting in the sight of those narrowed eyes and compressed lips. I could be sure that nothing Sarevok did would escape her scrutiny. Imoen stood a little behind her. Her face looked pale in the strange light. But it was my brother who held my attention.

Sarevok stared down at me with bold and challenging eyes. I'm no gently reared maiden to be shocked by nakedness; I've been in and out of barracks most of my life. My recent years have been spent adventuring, a career that does not exactly encourage prissiness. Still, I was relieved when Anomen burrowed through his pack and shoved his spare clothes at Sarevok. Having him tower over me in all his glory was more than I needed.

The tunic fit well enough; the breeches were far too short. It disturbed me to see Sarevok wear my lover's clothes. Irrational, I know, that my mind should pick little niggles to worry at. I managed to pull myself to my feet and broke the silence.

"I have met my end of our bargain, Sarevok. Tell me what you know of this place and how we can leave it."

We were in the Abyss, specifically in the part of the Abyss that had been Bhaal's domain, a place known as the Throne of Blood. Somehow I had managed to section off this small enclave for my personal use, erecting walls to protect us from the vast energies and fearsome denizens of this plane.

Or so Sarevok claimed. I had no recollection of doing such a thing. It scarcely seemed possible.

"We know all this," Imoen said, interrupting Sarevok's lecture. She could be patient enough when she chose—an impatient mage doesn't live long, I suspect—but she tended to muscle her way through conversation like an orc headed for battle. "Tell us how to get out of here."

"There is a portal."

"Where?"

He pointed to a massive arch behind us. Caught between the vague and mysterious Solar and the demanding shade of my brother Bhaalspawn, we'd had no time to explore this place. Without waiting for the rest of us, Imoen ran to the arch. She yelped when an unseen power threw her back.

"It is sealed," Sarevok said. "There are several sealed rooms in this plane."

"Why?" I asked, after I too was repelled by the opening. "If this is my domain, why can't I enter?"

"Perhaps our father still protects some of His secrets," he said, shrugging. "Or perhaps your mind has created these barriers to protect yourself until you are ready to face the challenges these rooms contain. I do not know." While this answer did not satisfy me, it was consistent with what the Solar had said—that I was unready for the power in my blood. Perhaps the Solar had sealed these rooms until she judged me ready. "What I do know is that the key to the portal lies beyond this barrier—and I can show you how to open it."

"Then do so."

"Be wary," he said. "There is a spirit that guards the key. There will be conflict."

"What kind of conflict?"

"How would I know that? This is your realm—what kind of conflict would you expect? Something you can face with that sharp sword of yours, no doubt."

"Great."

Sarevok insisted upon facing this challenge with us. I thought it better to have him armed at our side than unarmed at our back, but that meant he needed to be outfitted. Luckily for him, I hoard weapons and armor.

I rummaged through my Bag of Holding, a semi-intelligent container surely invented for packrats like me. None of my spare plate would fit Sarevok without more work than I had the time or the tools to accomplish but I found some chainmail that would do for now. He managed to force his long elegant feet into a pair of Minsc's old boots. (Why I still had them was a mystery. Minsc had left for Rashemen long ago, to bring Dynaheir's family the news of her death.) I also found a suitable helmet with the liner miraculously intact, if a little stained, and then—my prize.

"Where did you get that?" Sarevok growled. I was taken aback by his expression. I had thought he would be pleased to see his old sword. Imoen answered for me and her voice was gleeful.

"Off your corpse, of course."

I offered the scabbard to Sarevok but he snatched it from me as if he thought I was merely taunting him.

"The Sword of Chaos," he breathed. He pulled it from its scabbard and stared down the length of the blade, which shimmered with the magic woven into it. I will admit that I tried using Sarevok's sword for a time. It's a fine sword but even as big as I am, I found the greatsword unwieldy. I had given up on growing into it despite having seen him use it one-handed. Sarevok had been obscenely strong and presumably still was.

"Stripped of much of its power—that's to be expected, I suppose. I'm surprised the blade didn't shatter when I died. The enchantments were tied to the taint in my blood." He sheathed it then began fiddling with the belt I gave him. Once he had the hang to his liking, he looked down at me. "I had thought never to see it again. You kept it. Why? A trophy, perhaps?"

I shrugged, uncomfortable under his burning gaze. I'm a packrat with a love for weapons; there's nothing to explain.

"What of my armor?" he asked. "Is that in your magic bag as well?" He was not happy with the chain and I didn't blame him but until we could get to an armor smith, I could do no better. I shook my head.

"It wasn't salvageable, after—"

"After Minsc and Keeta hacked you to bits," Imoen said. I gave her a look. Sarevok gave me a look. He donned his borrowed gear in silence.

* * *

"Gods," I said after the slaughter was done. We'd killed and we'd killed but there were no bodies. "Those weren't even real creatures. What was the point of all this?" I gestured around the empty room, which had teemed with doppelgangers, ogres, sahuagin and drow—mindless shadows who had attacked for no reason and with no warning.

"The challenge comes from your own mind," Sarevok said.

"I doubt that," I said. Surely my mind was not so disorganized and vicious. The guardian spirit had said this was a place for retribution. "Well, anyway, this portal. Tell me how it works. It can take me anywhere I wish to go? How do I command it?"

"It will take you to where you need to be."

"Where I _need_ to be? How does it know that? _I _don't even know that."

"If you understood Alaundo's prophecies," he growled, "Perhaps you would."

My lips turned down in an involuntary grimace. I had grown up in Candlekeep, Alaundo's great library, but I was certainly no scholar. At Gorion's direction, my long-suffering tutor had forced me to read through the prophecies several times and had quizzed me on them, to our mutual frustration. At the time, it had seemed a bizarre punishment for an unnamed crime. I had also heard endless, often quite heated, discussions on their interpretation from the monks at the keep. I got pretty good at blocking it all out. As far as I'm concerned, any information that is given in the form of a poem is suspect. Highly suspect.

"But the portal will return us to Faerûn," I said.

"Yes, if that is where you need to be. In fact—"

I didn't like the sound of that. I opened my mouth to say so, but Sarevok whipped around to face the shadows beside me.

"Come out of there, creature," he growled. "Show yourself."

There was a flicker and a squeak and the creature emerged—some kind of imp, by the look of it. I drew my dagger. You've got to be quick to kill an imp. The evil little things are nothing but trouble and imps are like rats: if you see one, chances are there are twenty you don't see. My cocoon plane was no doubt infested with them.

"No harm! No harm! Do not hurt Cespenar, master!"

I hesitated. An imp that spoke Common was new in my experience. Was this some wizard's abandoned familiar? It fluttered up and down, lifted by bat-like wings and then threw itself at my feet. When I tried to step back, it wrapped its spindly arms around my left boot.

"Hey! Cut that out," I said. "I'm not your master." I couldn't shake it loose.

"Begone, fiend!" Keldorn strode towards me, Carsomyr in hand. A shudder ran all through the little creature's body. It shrieked but did not let go.

"Hold, paladin," Sarevok said. "Hear it out."

I could not understand the imp's babbling so finally I grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and gave it a little shake. It went limp. For a moment, I thought I had killed the pathetic thing. I raised it to my eye level. It dangled from my hand like a dead cat.

"Master, master," it whimpered. "Don't punish Cespenar. Cespenar came as soon as your call was heard. Cespenar is here to serve the Great One."

"Who's the Great One?" I asked.

"The Great One! The Great One! Bhaal! Cespenar serves the master. Cespenar is good servant, oh yes!"

"Bhaal's dead." Before I could drop the imp, it wrapped its barbed tail around my wrist. The barbs are poisonous and I didn't have my gauntlets on. "If you sting me, I'll break your neck and you can join Him." It whimpered but tightened its grip.

"Bhaal's power lives in you, Great One. Cespenar heard your call."

"I am not a god and I did not call you. Let go of me." I shook the imp loose. It dropped to my feet and grabbed my boot again. Pitiful as it was, I was still tempted to kick it.

"What can you do for us?" Sarevok asked, cutting through its moans and protests. It raised its face hopefully.

"There is much I can do for the Great One. Cespenar gathers shiny things for the Great One. Cespenar makes things all nice and tidy. Cespenar knows things, oh yes. Cespenar is a great help."

Keldorn gave me a shake of the head, but he had sheathed his sword so apparently he didn't consider the imp an immediate threat. Imoen took a step forward.

"What kind of things do you gather?" she asked. "Anything—valuable?"

"Useful things! Wondrous things!"

"Like what?"

"The only wondrous thing I want is dinner," I said under my breath. There's nothing like slaying an imaginary host of monsters to stir up an appetite.

"Yes, Great One! Right away!" And in a blink, it vanished.

"Oh, hells," I said. "What have I done?" I was speaking of the imp but I eyed Sarevok uneasily as well.


	2. The Path of Destiny

**Ch. 2…The Path of Destiny**

"Saradush? Why in the Nine Hells would I want to go to Tethyr? Why won't the portal take me back to Baldur's Gate?

"Or Athkatla," Anomen said.

"Yes, of course." I'd spoken thoughtlessly. I had little to tie me to Baldur's Gate after all and Anomen had much to tie him to Athkatla. Sometime we would have to sit down and have that discussion about our future that he kept pushing for and I kept evading.

I moved the dishes out of my way so I could rest my elbows on the table. The imp Cespenar had not only provided dinner, he had conjured up a dining room as well, complete with table, chairs, and a candelabra lit by magical flames. There was even a tablecloth. I admit that I've never in my life seen a black tablecloth but it did look rather elegant. The food wasn't that great and I was a little afraid to ask where it had come from but I was impressed with the candelabra. Perhaps having an imp for a servant wasn't such a bad idea. Perhaps my plan to leave this place and never return needed revision.

Particularly since leaving this place apparently meant going to Saradush, a city I had little desire to visit.

Sarevok frowned at me.

"Have you not heard a word I've said? Saradush is where you _must_ go. That is where the conflict between the Bhaalspawn plays out. That is where the path of your destiny leads you. All the prophecies agree on this."

"All the more reason to avoid the place, I'd say."

Sarevok gave me an irritated look.

"Your destiny cannot be avoided."

I would have liked to disagree but I very much feared he was right. Hadn't the Solar who brought us here said the exact same thing?

Only the three of us sat at the table. Jaheira and Imoen had gone off with Cespenar, who claimed to be able to shape this plane to meet my needs. Keldorn said he wanted to see to his gear but I figured he also wanted some quiet so he could pray. I knew that being here in the Abyss disturbed him and it seemed likely that Sarevok's resurrection was another source of uneasiness.

The gods knew the man made me uneasy. Sitting so close to him made my skin prickle.

"And what about you?" I asked. "Where does the path of your destiny lead?"

He studied me in silence for a moment.

"I wish to join my path to yours."

His lips were set in a faint smile and for a moment, despite his serious eyes, I thought his words a jest.

They weren't.

"No," I said. "Absolutely not." His expression did not change. Did he think I'd forgotten the moment when our feelings had merged and I'd felt the depth of his hatred? "Why would you even suggest such a thing?"

He leaned toward me. I pulled in my elbows and sat up straight in my chair, not quite craven enough to scoot away from him.

"I will speak plainly. Our father's blood is strong within you. There is power in your wake." His gaze flicked to Anomen. "I wish to profit by it, as others have done."

"Yeah?" Maybe he didn't even know how offensive I found his assumption that Anomen and my other companions followed me for personal gain. "Then I will speak plainly myself. There is death and deception in _your_ wake and I'll have nothing to do with you."

His smile became more mocking.

"You are a Bhaalspawn. Murder and chaos will follow you whether you will it or not. Surely you have learned this lesson by now."

There wasn't much I could say to that.

"Is it not better to have someone by your side who understands these things?"

There was _much_ I could say to that but for the moment I held my tongue.

"Come now, Keeta," he continued. "We have tested each other. My time in the Abyss has made me stronger still. You know what I bring to the table. My skills and my knowledge will be a great asset to you, no matter what your plans are."

"I don't see how our plans could be compatible in any way. Find another Bhaalspawn to latch onto. Or better yet, don't. I may not be able to avoid this destiny but you have a choice. You can walk away from this conflict. Haven't your ambitions cost you enough?"

Sarevok sat back in his chair. He lowered his eyelids, perhaps to hide his thoughts.

"That is it, then? You plan to turn me loose when we leave this plane, to pursue whatever course I choose? Or do you plan to kill me when you have no further use for me?"

"I have no plans for you at all, Sarevok. Your life is your own and you are free to go live it." I hesitated then added, "I do hope you will make better choices this time."

"I do not understand." His face was puzzled. I thought I'd been clear. "I do not understand why you brought me back to life if you have no use for me. And now you say you will simply let me go? Explain this to me."

"We do not all share your evil ways, Anchev," Anomen said. "Some of us hold to the bargains we make, even if they are ill-advised."

"My words are for Keeta and not for you, priest," Sarevok snapped. "I do not recall inviting you into this conversation and I will tell you that your presence is unwelcome."

"Do you think I would leave you alone with her? Keeta is pure and innocent—"

"I am not!"

"Perhaps she does not see the blackness of your heart," Anomen continued. "But Helm guides my sight. Do you think any of us would turn our backs on you? Your reputation is too well known for there to be any semblance of trust between us."

Sarevok's eyes flashed and he turned to me.

"It is true that you have no reason to trust me. Why should you? But I will swear not to betray you," he told me. "An oath made to you here in Bhaal's domain would have power like a geas. I could not break it."

"A geas," I whispered. "Made here?" Why would he make such an offer? The skin at the back of my neck crawled in horror. Did he really believe I would consent to placing any person under such a compulsion? That I would permit such a rape of the mind and the will? The mage Jon Irenicus had known well how to cast such spells. During the ten-day and more that I was his prisoner he had shown me his skill—but he was gone now, dead and gone, and I need not think back on those times.

"Even when we leave this place, my oath would still bind me," Sarevok said, misunderstanding my hesitation.

"No," I said. "That is not—no." I blinked and willed my voice to be firmer. "You may travel with us through the portal to Saradush or to wherever it takes us. But after that, you are on your own."

Sarevok inclined his head and said no more.

* * *

Where once there had stood a statue of an unnamed but startlingly male demon lord, there now was a hallway and bedrooms. Imoen proudly showed off Cespenar's work.

"The biggest room at the end is for you and Anomen," she said. "Cespenar said he can get us beds later and all kinds of furniture. Poor little guy, I think he's all worn out for now."

I could believe it. Imoen's perky tone was wearing me out. It had been a long day.

"And look, here's the privy. It's just a hole, sorry, but I have plans for something really special. Cespenar said he could do it. You just wait." She turned to Sarevok and gave a haughty sniff. "We didn't make a room for you. Figured you wouldn't be around long enough to need one."

"It is of no consequence," he said. I could tell his calm acceptance annoyed her. Deliberately so, I suspected.

"But Imoen," I said. "It sounds like you're planning on moving in and staying here. I thought you couldn't wait to get out."

"That's because I didn't think we _could_ get out. But think, Keeta. This place—it's like a fortress and a hideout all in one. And you can get here just by snapping your fingers."

"There's a little more to it than that."

"Not really, once you get used to it. Cespenar said. And no one can find you here—it's unscryable. I think. And Cespenar really can do all kinds of useful stuff. This place is great!"

"Imoen, we're in the Lower Planes! This is Bhaal's domain. There's nothing great about it."

"You don't like it?" She looked around the bare dark hall and her face fell.

"It's not that," I said. "What you've done so far is amazing. I just don't like being in the Abyss. I want to go back where we belong. Don't you miss sunshine and fresh air?"

"But that's the beauty of it. You can go through the portal anytime you like." I sighed. "Well, if you don't want it—can I have it? This would make the greatest mage's tower. Elminster would swoon with envy. And can I keep Cespenar as my familiar?"

I sighed again.

By the time I'd dug out the spare bedroll and given it to Sarevok, Anomen had merged our blankets into a snug nest. A real bed would have been lovely but simply having the privacy of a room with a door was a pleasant luxury. It was a luxury that Anomen had every intention of taking advantage of, if I read his look correctly. I gave him a smile of anticipation.

Our armor, which we had taken off before dinner, lay in neater piles than I remembered leaving it. Anomen's years as a squire for the Order of the Radiant Heart had left him as fastidious as Keldorn. I kept hoping this would rub off on me, at least a little. I imagine Anomen had the same hope although he didn't complain much about my slovenly ways.

Anomen held out his wineskin.

"If we are going to re-provision tomorrow, we might as well finish this off tonight," he said.

"I like the way you think." I took a long drink and handed it back. I pulled off my boots and sat cross-legged on the floor beside him. "I honestly think I am too weary to sleep." I leaned against his side. His warm muscular body was better than an armchair and I snuggled in with contentment. He drank from the skin and set it by my knee.

"You are given no respite, are you, my lady?"

"It sure doesn't seem that way. Couldn't you put in a word with Helm and ask Him to arrange a short holiday between disasters?"

We had spent a ten-day in Suldanessellar recovering from our wounds and being feted by the grateful elves, but it hadn't been much of a holiday. Due to the many deaths and destruction caused by Jon Irenicus, especially the damage he'd done to the Tree of Life, the city had been in mourning. Then the rumors that armies led by Bhaalspawn were attacking settlements along the Sword Coast began to flow into the increasingly nervous city. It was not a good time to harbor a notorious Bhaalspawn. Queen Ellesime suggested we consult the spirits in the Sacred Grove. The fact that this grove was located quite some distance from Suldanessellar was, of course, no coincidence.

"Believe me, I inundate Him with my prayers to that effect." Somehow his arm had found its way around my waist. I turned my face to his so he could kiss me. I could taste the wine on his lips and felt the pleasant tickle of his beard against my face.

"Try harder," I suggested a few breathless moments later.

"I will," he murmured although I suspected he wasn't talking about prayer any longer. I didn't know; I had more or less abandoned the capability for coherent thought.

A considerable while later, I decided that I would be able to sleep after all.

"And you told Sarevok I was pure and innocent. Ha!"

"You are." He sounded half asleep already, which was not surprising. "Also sweet and delectable." He nuzzled my neck. Considering that none of us had done more than wash in a bucket since Suldanessellar, this would be what was technically known as a lie. A sweet lie, though, the kind that knights are allowed to speak to their ladies.

"Tell me, am I making a mistake with him?" I was warm and cozy with Anomen's arms around me. We had yet to begin the nightly contest for the blankets, one I was almost certain to lose. Anomen's chivalry did not follow him into sleep, alas.

"With Sarevok? Yes. I think you are."

"You do? You think I should let him travel with us?"

"Gods, no. I think we should turn him in to the authorities. Do you not wish him to face Tyr's justice for all he's done to you? By rights, he should be hanged."

The harshness in his tone took me aback. He was right, I supposed. Sarevok's crimes had been grievous ones but he had died for them, after all. And he had spent the past year or so in this place of retribution being punished for them. Bhaal's taint was gone from him now. Perhaps—perhaps that would make a difference. Perhaps he truly could make better choices now.

"Do you think anyone in Saradush is going to care about crimes he committed in Baldur's Gate?"

"No, more is the pity. Should he ever show his face in Amn, it will be a different story, I promise you."

"Have you ever been in Saradush?" I asked Anomen, as I helped him into his chain shirt after breakfast. We'd decided that clanking around in full plate presented too martial an appearance and would draw unwanted attention. And if Saradush was as hot as everyone said, plate armor would feel like an oven. So would chain mail but Anomen claimed to feel naked without metal encasing him. I wore my favorite leather tunic, which was light but enchanted to turn the blade of any mugger or back alley thief. Not that I planned on lurking in any back alleys, but you never knew. Despite my imputed purity and innocence, I frequently found myself in seedy surroundings.

"Only once, when I was a youngster. My father took us through Tethyr on business, back before my mother's health failed and his drinking became so habitual. That was the last trip we took as a family."

I wrapped my arms around his waist. His expression lightened.

"Saradush is much smaller than Athkatla and rather rusticated," he said, shaking off the mood any mention of his father always brought him. Jaheira had already shown me the city's location on our maps. Saradush was nowhere near anywhere I wanted to be, unfortunately. "But travelers are common. We won't stand out. Also, trade caravans leave frequently. We should be able to find merchants headed north, if you wish to join a larger group." We had already decided that if the portal did indeed drop us in Saradush, we'd leave, despite what Sarevok said about destiny.

"I think we'd move quicker on our own once we buy some horses."

But as it happened, no one was leaving Saradush and the horses had all been butchered and eaten. The city was under siege.

The portal dumped us in the main square before what appeared to be a palace. A throng of people milled about, for the most part dressed in the drab working clothes of peasants and laborers. None of them seem startled by the deep twang of a nearby catapult that made me jump half out of my skin. They merely glanced up to note the trajectory of the incoming missile. Judging by the state of the walls and the buildings (not to mention the jaded attitudes), this assault had been going on for quite some time. In the distance, I could see soldiers up on the city walls, firing arrows and spells at the unseen enemy.

What compelling reason forced these people out in the open instead of taking cover from the steady bombardment? They had been shouting at the guards who stood before a pair of large, closed doors but that stopped when we arrived. I didn't believe there was a prohibition against magic in Saradush but our sudden appearance caused great consternation. We could hardly have chosen a more public way to enter the city and I kicked myself for not having anticipated this. Why hadn't I asked Imoen to cast an invisibility spell on us before I activated the portal? Because I was an idiot, I guess.

The guards immediately abandoned their dispute with the townsfolk.

"The city is sealed," growled one of them. "How did you get here? Are you spies?"

_Yes, we're the realm's most incompetent spies. That's why we teleported to the center of town in broad daylight. Please arrest us_.

The guard didn't wait for an answer. He strode forward, gesturing for his men to follow. It struck me odd to see human soldiers led by a half-orc. Jaheira had told me that Tethyrians were ill disposed to accept anyone of mixed heritage and of course few people anywhere are likely to welcome half-orcs.

A flame-haired woman, richly dressed like a noble, stared at me and ran forward.

"Stop, she's a Bhaalspawn!" she shouted. Her voice was disastrously carrying. The townsfolk were already scrambling away from our little group and at that, they took off in a panicky rush. They accepted catapult stones and fireballs with nary a blink but were frightened of a Bhaalspawn? What was wrong with these people?

The guards moved into close formation like battle-hardened soldiers. They dropped their halberds to a threatening position.

It went downhill from there.

But it could have been worse. Our wounds were minor and we weren't arrested. Our attackers were not, as I'd feared, members of the militia or the City Watch. They were mercenaries and while the captain of the Watch didn't exactly shake my hand for slaying them, it was clear he had no trouble believing that they had been the aggressors. It helped that the well-dressed woman, Lady Melissan, testified on our behalf. She seemed to be a person of some standing and her words obviously carried weight with him. Once he had heard us out and examined Keldorn and Anomen's Radiant Heart credentials, we were free to go.

"We killed eight people in the street and got off without even a fine?" Imoen whispered. "Guess that proves we're no longer in Amn."

Melissan led us to a tavern called the Tankard Tree. The owner deferentially ushered her into a private sitting room where she told us Saradush's woes. The city was besieged by an army led by a fire giant called Yaga-Shura. Why? He was after the many Bhaalspawn had been drawn to this city, brought here by Melissan herself. The city was meant to be their refuge but now all were trapped here. Including us, she said.

Melissan sat in an armchair right beside me, her face earnest and her voice low as she spoke. Her hair was pinned up in an elaborate coif. She wore a strong musky perfume, the kind I associated with rich noblewomen. I couldn't decide if I liked it or not. She sat so close that her knee brushed mine and she laid her hand on my sleeve as if to catch and hold my attention. Her eyes were focused on my face like I was the only person in the room.

Sarevok, who sat quietly at the end of the room, raised one brow at me. What it signified, I was not sure. Frankly, I was more interested in Keldorn's reaction to Melissan but the paladin's expression was neutral.

"But what does this Yaga-Shura want with the Bhaalspawn?" I asked. "For that matter, what do you want with us?"

A crash rocked the building. I flinched but apparently no harm was done, to the tavern at least. Melissan's fingers closed around my wrist.

"For myself, I am a—guardian, you might say. I have great interest in Alaundo's prophecies. It is said that the time of Bhaal's resurrection approaches but I believe that event can be averted. That would be good, don't you agree?"

"I certainly don't want to see Bhaal brought back to life. Is that what this is all about? Do you know some way to prevent that from happening?"

She smiled and did not answer. Her fingers stroked the back of my hand. Her action may have been unconscious for I saw no warmth in her eyes, only an earnest attentiveness. Although much older, she reminded me of Nalia De'Arnise. I wondered if she was yet another bored noblewoman grasping at a worthy but ultimately hopeless cause to bring significance to her days.

"And what of this Yaga-Shura?" I asked. "What is he trying to accomplish? Is he a bounty hunter or does he hold the city itself hostage?"

"I think—I think I must withhold some of my information until you have proven yourself to me."

Ah, now we came to the point. She was reminding me more and more of Nalia, who had hired me to clear her keep of its attackers while neglecting to tell me that every other mercenary she had approached had refused the job, due to its highly suicidal nature. I, of course, had been too stupid and naïve to ask the right questions.

"And how can I prove myself?" Assuming I was stupid and naïve enough to wish to do so.

"Yaga-Shura must be stopped before he breaches the walls of Saradush, but the city's defenses are divided. This is partially my fault, I'm afraid. I contracted with a mercenary band to protect the Bhaalspawn here. Their leader is General Gromnir Il-Khan. Perhaps you have heard of him?"

I shook my head but Keldorn frowned in recognition. So did Sarevok.

"He is a Bhaalspawn," Sarevok said.

"That is correct." Melissan looked at him for the first time since we'd entered the tavern. Her eyes narrowed. This was a lady unused to being interrupted, it seemed. "It was his men who attacked you outside the palace. I am afraid to say that the general has gone mad. He has barricaded himself within the palace and his mages have sealed the doors against all intruders." She gave an unhappy sigh. "Not only does he refuse to lend his troops to the defense of the city but he hoards the city's food and many other supplies that are needed by the militia. He will not listen to me or to any of the city's officials. Perhaps _you_ can reason with him."

"Me? Why would he listen to me if he won't listen to his own employer?"

"You are a Bhaalspawn of great power. You can compel him to listen. And if he can't be made to see reason—then you must kill him."

So she wanted sword-point diplomacy. What else would anyone want from a 'Bhaalspawn of great power'? Her hand closed around my wrist again and her long nails dug into my skin.

"The gods must have brought you here to help us. I am certain you can find a way inside the palace," she said. "Keeta, you must do this, not just for the sake of the city and all the Bhaalspawn within but for yourself as well."


	3. Presentiments

**Ch. 3…Presentiments **

"Should I find another inn and relieve you of my unwelcome presence?" Sarevok asked after Melissan had left. He had followed me into the common room where I had gone to seek out the innkeeper and arrange for our rooms for the evening. I had no desire to return to the cocoon plane although if the nerve-wracking bombardment continued into the night, I might reconsider.

"No," I said. I wondered if he was deliberately trying to embarrass me or if this extreme directness was just his lovely Sembian manners. "Not unless you want to. We might as well stay together until we find a way out of here."

He inclined his head in a movement that might have looked respectful, if I ignored his mocking eyes.

"What did you make of your 'guardian'?" he asked. He kept his voice low although after the first startled glances, it didn't look like any of the bar patrons were listening. They were too busy whispering and nudging each other. I was more or less used to this sort of thing and Sarevok didn't seem much perturbed either.

"Melissan? I didn't know what to think." He leaned in closer.

"She claims to be familiar with Alaundo's prophecies. She also claims to wish to prevent Bhaal's resurrection. Yet she led many Bhaalspawn here, to Saradush. An odd choice for one who wishes to avoid conflict, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Without knowing her thinking, all we could do was guess. Presumably she would tell us more if we could manage to prod Il-Khan out of hiding. "What do you know of this general of hers?"

"Gromnir Il-Khan? I think his rank is self-bestowed. Engagements where he is involved tend to be bloody ones, it is said. That is hardly surprising for one of our heritage. And he is a half-orc, you know."

"A half-orc? Truly?" Bhaal, as a mortal and presumably in human form, mated with a she-orc? Sarevok snorted.

"Do not look so shocked, sister. Our father broadcast His seed far and wide. He chose His consorts for their strength, not for their comeliness." I shook my head, wondering how he could possibly know that. "I have heard no rumor that Il-Khan is mad, other than battle-mad. Many orc warriors are taken that way. We would be wise to go about the town and see what we can learn of this supposed madness and of Melissan as well."

"I agree." Before he could leave, I touched his sleeve. I looked up at his face, suddenly uncomfortable. "I, um, wanted to—"

Sarevok's expression turned sardonic.

"I hope you do not mean to bore me with an apology. I already found the purse you slipped into my belongings," he said. "Is that meant to console me for your rejection of my company?"

I blinked.

"What? No, I figured you'd need coin on the road."

"Ah, so this is your attempt to keep me from robbing some hapless traveler."

I blinked again.

"Sure," I said. "If that's how you want to look at it. Listen, I just wanted to thank you for covering my back when those soldiers attacked. You kept me from getting hurt, I think." He'd blocked a blow that would have glanced harmlessly off my back plate—if I had happened to be wearing it. It probably would have done some pretty good damage to my leather, not to mention my spine. You'd think a man his size would be slow but he'd moved like a striking snake to protect me.

"You may congratulate yourself that your gold was a good investment."

I gaped at him. Sarevok was back in Faerûn with a new life to live any way he chose. Getting besieged in Saradush wasn't that great but we'd find a way out. I honestly could not figure what he had to be so snippy about. Perhaps he found pleasure in his own ill-humor but I did not.

I snapped my mouth shut and returned to the others.

Keldorn, Jaheira and Imoen went shopping for supplies as well as scouting for news. If there were any Harpers around, Jaheira would find them and milk them of what they knew. Keldorn's presence might add restraint to Imoen's bargaining but he would keep her out of trouble and besides, few merchants are impious enough to seriously cheat a paladin of Torm the True. Sarevok went off alone without another word.

When Anomen and I asked the barkeep for directions to the temple district, we learned that there was none. For the most part, the gods were worshipped at private shrines in Saradush, he told us. He eyed Anomen's holy symbol and told us there were several temples in the hills outside the city walls, but of course they were inaccessible to us now due to the siege. There was, however, a shrine dedicated to Waukeen, where marriages and other ceremonies could be performed for a fee. For lack of a better idea, we headed there.

Saradush had no doubt been a pleasant city before the siege. Anomen might call it rustic but, excepting the recent destruction, I liked what I saw. I wished I could have seen it in better times. There were gardens and window boxes everywhere but they were untended now, the plants wilted and dying. The sky was cloudless and the sun was hot for so early in the afternoon. You'd think I'd be used to these southern climes after the time I'd spent in Amn. Anomen's face was wet with sweat. He had to be sweltering in his chain shirt but he made no complaint. I loosened the ties to my tunic so I'd be ready for any breeze that came to offer relief.

Waukeen is revered in any town active with trade. Like most holy places dedicated to the Merchant's Friend the shrine made a sumptuous display of wealth. In this case that meant polished marble floors, extravagant lamps and a high gilded ceiling. The shrine was crowded with refugees and I wondered if some of them were the Bhaalspawn that Melissan had shepherded here. I couldn't tell. Supposedly there are signs that mark those with divine blood but I'm not sensitive to them. Sarevok had been the only one whose power I could sense and when I'd first met him, I hadn't known what a Bhaalspawn was or that I was one of them. All I'd known was that he'd frightened me more than anything I'd ever imagined.

I'd first seen his strange golden gaze in a clearing, as he stood over my father's body. _Hand her over_, he'd told Gorion, and killed him when he refused. I had seen evil in his eyes, a fearful evil that spoke to my heart and saw straight through to the darkness lying dormant within me.

Anomen, already attuned to the divine, could detect the taint. He'd once told me he had known there was something different about me when we'd first met in that seedy tavern in Athkatla. That was before so much had happened to draw out Bhaal's power. Before I could ask him if there were Bhaalspawn here we were approached by a middle-aged woman in a white robe. Her necklace of gold coins jingled when she walked. Her harried expression lightened when she took in Anomen's holy symbol and the Order of the Radiant Heart's insignia embroidered on his surcoat.

"I am Sister Farielle," she said. "How can I help you, Sir…?"

"Anomen," he said, smiling. She looked at me and her jaw dropped.

"You—you are the Bhaalspawn that passed through the city's wards! You are the one who slaughtered Il-Khan's guards."

"News travels fast," I said.

"News such as this travels very fast indeed." Although her eyes were wary, she invited us into her living quarters and offered both tea and information in liberal doses. I could tell she took a fancy to Anomen, and who could blame her—heroic, handsome knights probably didn't wander into her shrine every ten-day.

She spoke highly of Melissan, who had indeed sought her aid in housing the Bhaalspawn under her protection. It was unfortunate that Gromnir Il-Khan had become the city's bane instead of its savior, but no blame attached to Melissan, she told us. It was the fault of that insane half-orc. No doubt his tainted blood drove him mad, she said—then looked at me and flushed.

I smiled and made no reply. Instead I rose and walked around the room to admire the artwork. Paintings of Waukeen and Lliira predominated but there were also some charcoal sketches pinned to the walls showing gardens and people unknown to me, no doubt drawn from life. They were probably the work of the cleric herself or perhaps one of her acolytes. They looked quite good to my untutored eye. I would have asked her about them but she and Anomen had their heads close together, speaking in low tones of vampires.

I hate all undead but I find vampires—sentient beings who shun Lathander's dawn and who knowingly feed upon the lives of others—to be particularly loathsome. I'd been hounded by them throughout the streets of Athkatla. To learn that Saradush suffered a similar infestation was not good news.

These vampires made their lair in warrens under the city, at the site of an abandoned prison. Sister Farielle had locked and warded the entrance to the underground dungeon, not so much to keep the vampires confined (for they could escape through cracks a rat would find challenging) but to keep children and other adventurous or desperate townsfolk away.

However (she said) if Sir Anomen was willing to attempt to destroy these vampires, she would give him the key. The town would be most grateful for his aid. And it was rumored that inside the old prison, there was a secret passage into the palace.

I muttered one curse after another on the way back to the Tankard Tree. My pack bulged with the stakes and vials of holy water Sister Farielle had provided. Anomen linked his arm with mine. I thought about twitting him on the good sister's obvious interest in him. I hadn't heard her quiet invitation for him to return in the evening but he told me of it himself. I doubt it occurred to him that she might be after anything more than spiritual counsel.

Anomen had lost most of his insecurities with his knighthood and with the signs of divine favor that Helm continued to shower upon him. The ring on his hand had come to him in a dream, a direct gift from Helm Himself. But he had never had much confidence in his own attractiveness. Sometimes I thought he avoided mirrors because he favored his father, the detestable Lord Cor Delryn who had disowned him with such cruelty.

Perhaps it was this lingering doubt that made Anomen so jealous, although I knew he held stern views on infidelity. He was a Helmite, after all, and I gathered that his father had made little effort at hiding his own extramarital adventures from his family. Although we were neither married nor betrothed, Anomen would not care to be accused of encouraging the attentions of another woman, even in jest.

"Sorry," I said at his questioning look. "I just can't share your joy at the prospect of trudging through some dismal, gods-forsaken dungeon to hunt vampires." And he _was_ happy, damn him, he was practically humming with happiness.

"Keldorn and I can handle it if you'd rather—"

"Anomen, I'm sure you could take on the whole pack single-handed." When he called upon Helm only the mightiest of undead could withstand him. "I'm still going with you though."

"Your company would be most welcome, my lady."

But that was a task for the morrow. For the evening, my priorities were finding a bathhouse and a meal. Both had already been arranged. In fact, Imoen and Jaheira had awaited our return so they could drag me off to the women's bathhouse.

"We need something like this in the cocoon plane," Imoen said, after we'd scrubbed and scoured our way to cleanliness. She luxuriated in the huge tub while Jaheira and I used the attendant's scissors to trim each other's hair.

"If I cut it any shorter, I'll have to listen to Anomen's protests," Jaheira told me. I rolled my eyes. If it was up to him, my hair would fall to my waist. Men could be surprisingly impractical about the strangest things.

"Honestly, my life would be simpler if I shaved my head like Sarevok," I said. "How does that work? Does he have to shave every day? Is it difficult to shave your own head?"

"I dare you to ask him," Imoen said. I grinned. Maybe I would. "Well don't ask _me_ to shave your head for you 'cause I won't do it. It's a spell, I bet, built into the tattoos to keep the hair from growing over them. Go find yourself a nice helpful Thayan if you want it done." She chuckled and added, "I'd just love to see Anomen's face if you did."

"I think we should concentrate on how best to deal with Il-Khan," Jaheira said repressively. "That assumes that this underground route, if it exists, can bring us into the palace."

"Il-Khan's not important," Imoen said. "The important thing is to find out what his mages know about the spells sealing the city. If we work together, we might be able to counter-spell Yaga-Shura's mages and slip past their wards. A couple of mages in town have already agreed to help but we're not strong enough."

I looked at her in some surprise. And here I'd thought she'd spent her day shopping.

"But don't you want to—"

"No," she said. "Don't even say it. We are not here to solve Saradush's problems. Next thing you know, you'll be taking Gromnir's place, leading the militia into some suicidal rush on that mob of fire giants outside the walls. Keeta Bhaalspawn, the Hero of Saradush." She made a face.

"Keeta of Candlekeep," I corrected. "Maybe that's why we're here."

"No! Don't you get it? Didn't you listen to those mossy old stone heads or that Solar that Ao sent us? Or even Sarevok, curse him? You're here to serve Bhaal! You're here to fight the other Bhaalspawn! That's what the prophecy says. That's what Bhaal wants."

"For pity's sake, lower your voice," Jaheira hissed. We'd dismissed the attendant and I didn't see anyone nearby who could be eavesdropping but she had a Harper's concern for spies. Imoen spoke lower but every bit as vehemently.

"Keeta, you've got to get away from here. If you don't, something really, really bad is going to happen. Can't you feel it?"

* * *

Jaheira had hired the private sitting room at the Tankard Tree for our supper. Food might be scarce but ale was still plentiful. The innkeeper served fresh bread, a treat that made up for the fact that the watery stew mainly consisted of beans with a few scraps of meat tossed in. I wondered if it was horse or rat but the stew was so heavily spiced that I couldn't tell. Not that I really wanted to know.

"Where's Sarevok?" I asked.

"I neither know nor care," Jaheira said. I would have let it go if I hadn't seen Anomen and Imoen exchange glances. Anomen is, if possible, even less cut out for intrigue than I am. His discomfort was plain to see. On the other hand, a celestial would have trouble matching the innocence on Imoen's face.

I gave her a pointed look.

"I don't know or care either," she said.

"Don't give me that. You didn't play some trick on him, did you?"

"Of course not!" I continued to stare her down. She finally laughed. "Trust me, Keeta, don't ask any more questions."

"We are all curious now, young lady," Keldorn said. "You are wise enough to realize Sarevok is not one to tease or play pranks upon."

"I didn't tease him." She choked back a giggle. "I'm sorry, Sir Keldorn, but there are certain things a maiden cannot discuss in mixed company," she said. With an effort, she managed to set her face in prim lines.

I hoped that didn't mean she'd locked him in the privy or stolen his clothes to leave him stranded at the bathhouse.

"Anomen, are you in on this?" I asked.

"No, my lady." He shook his head but exchanged another uneasy look with Imoen. I frowned at him. "There's no need for concern. Your lady sister appears to have overheard—"

"Anomen, you rat!" Imoen said. "Can't you hold your tongue for more than a heartbeat? Sarevok's gone to try out his new body, that's all."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "He did fine in the fight this morning."

"Yeah, well I don't think that's the kind of contest he had in mind."

"He hasn't gone out brawling, has he?" I asked in sudden anxiety. With tensions so high in Saradush, particularly against Bhaalspawn, he might bite off more than he could chew. "If he wanted a sparring partner, he could have asked me. I'm getting antsy too." Imoen laughed.

"I don't think Anomen would approve." She waggled her eyebrows. At my blank stare, she said, "Keeta, you're such a bufflehead. I heard him ask the barkeep where the prostitutes can be found."

"He's gone out, alone, after dark, in a city infested with vampires?" I stared at Imoen. "Did he have a holy item?"

Imoen snorted. "If Sarevok touched a holy item it would probably explode. Or he would."

"Did you at least warn him?" Imoen's look shaded to mulishness. "You didn't."

"I haven't seen Sarevok since we left for the temple," Anomen, the peacemaker, said. "There was no way to warn him about the vampires."

Not so. Imoen could have warned him and she chose not to.

"Sarevok's been gone an awfully long time," I told Anomen, when we retired to our room. "Don't you think so?" He shrugged.

"He may be out all night," he said. "Keeta, please stop your pacing. If he chooses to do something foolish, there's nothing you can do. Besides, Sarevok isn't your responsibility."

"You're right. He's not my—" I stopped, suddenly so light-headed that I thought I would faint on my feet. It felt like a giant had taken my heart and lungs in his hand and gave them a great squeeze.

"Keeta?" Anomen stopped loosening the ties of his shirt and took my arm. "Keeta, are you well? Here, sit on the bed. What is it?"

"I don't know." He sat beside me and rubbed my back. "I'm fine now. But—have you ever had a premonition that something bad was going to happen?"

"I'm no seer," he said. "But yes, I have had presentiments from time to time. When Moira died—do you remember? I had a bad dream that night. We'd been out of town. I did not learn until later that the dream was a true one." I remembered when we learned his sister had been murdered, of course, but I had forgotten he had dreamed of her death. I'd been about to dismiss this strange feeling but now I had to act.

"Would you mind very much putting your boots back on and going out with me? I think Sarevok is in trouble."

The barkeep gave us a strange look at my question but he told us where he had directed Sarevok.

"My lady, are we going to wander aimlessly about?" Anomen asked after we'd been walking awhile. I'd spoken to some of the street walkers we'd passed and none of them had seen Sarevok. One thing about my brother—he stood out from a crowd. They would have remembered him.

"Maybe he'll scream and make it easy for us," I said. "Anyway, it's a nice night. We might as well enjoy it." The evening was clear and felt blessedly cool after the heat of the day. The stars were out, along with a sliver of moon chased by the Tears of Selune. The sky was gorgeous and unmarred by any further catapult bombardment. Apparently Yaga-Shura's trebuchet teams took the night off. And I felt sorry for any vampires foolish enough to accost Helm's priest. I still felt a knot of anxiety press against my chest but it did not provide any helpful guidance. So I just let my feet go where they wished and hoped I wasn't making an utter fool of myself. My feet eventually led us to a small tavern.

"Shall we sit for a moment and drink some wine?" I asked Anomen. But as it happened, we did neither. Sarevok had been there before us and had left with a black-haired courtesan known to the barkeep. We had a direction.

"This can't be the right place," Anomen said as we stood before the uninviting wreck of a house. No light shone from any shutter; the front door sagged from a broken hinge. It looked like it had been deserted for years. Still, there was a dead tree in front, split by lightning, just as the barkeep had described.

"It is." There was no rational cause for my certainty. I pulled the door open with a loud scrape that no doubt alerted any occupants to our presence. We had brought no lantern but we didn't need one. Anomen called upon Helm's power and light filled his hands. I let him lead the way. The house wasn't large but it had two stories. Most of the furnishings had been sold or looted, and our footsteps seemed unnaturally loud on the bare stone floor.

My feeling of wrongness grew. When Anomen stopped and I looked over his shoulder, I wasn't surprised at what we saw.

Sarevok lay on his back on the floor in one of the back rooms while the vampire crouched over him on all fours. When she lifted her head, I saw blood on her lips. My own lips lifted in a snarl as the fury that was always present in my blood flared. She might have seemed comely to some but to me she was sickeningly unnatural.

In these close quarters, I drew my dagger instead of my sword. The vampire had no attention for me. She shrieked and leapt away from Anomen's glowing figure as he held out the symbol of Helm. We blocked the doorway. There was nowhere for her to run. She froze and then the god's power blew her into dust. I'd seen this many times and it always caused me great satisfaction.

I strode to my brother's limp form.

"Ilmater's mercy," I said. "Is he dead?" He couldn't be. Surely the gods meant to grant him more than a single day of life. But even as I spoke, Sarevok blinked up at me. A strange smile crawled across his face. He made as if to sit up but his arm gave way beneath him.

"Sarevok, are you hurt?" I asked. There was no lamp in the room. Anomen's harsh light cast long shadows so I spoke the word that activated the light charm enchanted into the chain around my neck. The glow was gone from Sarevok's eyes. They were wide and unfocused, his pupils huge. Had he taken a head blow or had the vampire drained him of all vitality?

"Am I?" he asked. "Sit beside me, fair physician, and examine me." He patted the dirty floor in awkward invitation. His voice was softer than I'd ever heard it and either playful or dreamy. I wasn't sure.

"Sarevok, it's Keeta. Don't you know me?"

"Do I? Let us become much better acquainted." He looked up at Anomen. "You are dismissed, varlet. 'Tis the company of a wench I desire, not the prying eyes of a voyeur."

"What's wrong with him?" I asked. The exaltation that channeling Helm's power brought him was fading from Anomen's face. "I don't think he even recognizes us." The two of us crouched beside him. Sarevok managed to roll onto one elbow, still smiling. He put his hand on my knee.

"Fear not my size," he said. His hand slid up my leg and gave my thigh a squeeze. "I shall be gentle. You will become accustomed to me soon enough, I swear it."

I slapped his hand away and caught the smell of liquor on his breath. With astonishment, I asked, "Is he drunk?"

"I think so," Anomen said. "He's lost some blood but there is something more. Could be black lotus or maybe the vampire's bite is having an effect on him, rather like a charm spell—to make him, ah, amorous and compliant."

"Lotus, was that her name?" Sarevok asked. "Say, what happened to yon raven haired beauty? She was going to—" He then said something so lewd that Anomen winced. I figured this was not the time to tell him his doxy now lay as grit beneath our feet. "Ah, no matter," he said. "She was a buxom armful but her teeth were sharp as a serpent's. Are you the wench she promised would meet us here? Perhaps you—"

"No," I said. "Can you cure him?" I asked Anomen.

"I believe the effect can be dispelled," he said. "But first I should check the house for more vampires." He gave Sarevok a doubtful look.

"I can handle him," I said. "Go."

Once he'd left, the soft glow of my medallion was the only light in the room. It depicted the sunrise and had been blessed by the priests of the Morninglord. Through my faith in Lathander, it could be used to repel a vampire, should one get past Anomen. Like him, I was worried about the second 'wench' Sarevok mentioned.

The room only had one door and I stood where I could watch it. Vampires can move swiftly and silently and I did not want to be surprised. I certainly didn't want to end up like Sarevok. I didn't draw my sword but kept the hilt within easy reach. A vial of holy water was a reassuring lump in my breast pocket.

"Good, he's gone," Sarevok said. "I despise fellows who cannot take a hint." There was a soft slur to his words. He peered over at me. I wondered how well he could see with his eyes so dilated. "What a fine strapping girl you are, tall as a man." His eyes explored my figure. "Your hair is the color of a bay mare I once owned. Long legs she had and a fast, smooth action. It's not easy to find a mount that can bear my weight for long." His laugh was suggestive but without the mocking tone I had already come to expect from him. "Come here. Let me try out your paces."

I've been around enough drunks to know better than to argue with them. Intoxication can bring out hidden personality traits, I've noticed. One of my early trainers at Candlekeep, a severe and taciturn guard named Hull, would recite poetry and weep like a child when in his cups. Still, I would never, ever have suspected Sarevok of such relentless randiness. Surely it was a spell. I think I would have been less shocked to see Anomen fondle a chambermaid.

Well, maybe not.

"I'm no doxy," I told him. "I'm here to protect you."

"I have paid for two girls and I won't be cheated."

Spoken like a true son of Sembia. I ignored him. With any luck, he'd pass out soon although if he did, I wasn't sure how we'd cart him back to the inn.

"Here to protect me, are you? Do you know how to use that sword at your hip?"

"I think I can figure it out."

"Yes, I'm certain such a bold-eyed wench can handle a blade well enough. You've got that look about you. Come over here and let me show you mine. You may draw it if you like."

Sarevok was not wearing the Sword of Chaos. Presumably he had left it in his room at the inn. I didn't want to see his reaction if it had been stolen, although it would serve him right. His belt sheath held a short sword I'd never seen before but I was reasonably certain that was not the blade he intended to show me.

"No thanks."

With a laborious effort, Sarevok made it to his feet. He swayed and grabbed at the wall for support. His face looked pasty. His eyes glinted in the dim light.

"'Tis a fine blade I have—a marvel, truly. I promise you've never seen nor handled finer. Come now, I shall let you unsheathe it for me."

"You're drunk, Sarevok. Stay on your side of the room so I can guard the door."

"Drunkenness is a weakness for fools," he said.

"I'm sure you're right."

"Although I will say that I feel unaccountably—but no matter." He took a couple of steps toward me, keeping one hand on the wall. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I will tell you a secret."

"You need not."

"I have always had a weak head for strong drink. Is that not amusing?"

"I would never have guessed."

"Ha. I thought not. Otherwise, I am as strong as a troll, as I'm sure you can see. I do not tire like ordinary men." He stepped closer, now emboldened to leave the wall's support. "You were going to examine my blade."

"No, I wasn't. I'm guarding the door, remember? Keep your 'blade' to yourself or you will regret it."

"Come now, I always have a whore on my birthday. Or two. It's a—it's a tradition."

"Not where I come from. Is it really your birthday?" I only knew the year of my birth and Gorion's guess that I'd been a spring baby.

"Yes, of course. I'm sure it must be. Come celebrate with me. I have a bottle of whiskey." He looked around the empty room. "Well, I did. No matter." He lurched towards me.

"Go sit down before you fall down. If you need to vomit, do it in the far corner."

"That's not what I need."

He stumbled. I put out my hand to catch him but misjudged his reach. He managed to grab my shoulders in a surprisingly firm grip. He leaned into me and rubbed his face against my hair.

"Your scent is pleasing. The other, she smelled of death and dead things long, long buried." He pressed up against me. If he groped me I was going to punch him, I didn't care how drunk he was. "Death. I have had enough of death. You remind me of sunlight—of murder—"

He took my chin in his hand and peered down into my face. His brows wrinkled in confusion. I saw a faint rim of gold form around his huge pupils.

"I know you. I dreamed of you. The one I have been watching—waiting for. Am I—am I to kill you?"

"No, Sarevok. We won't do that again."

I spoke calmly but my breath caught when I felt his fingers curl around the back of my neck. His thumb rubbed against my throat. I felt a brush of power across my skin and his eyes brightened to golden rings.

"No? There was a way to take your strength but He said—He said best to kill you. Not to try the other." Sarevok sagged against me. His hand dropped to grasp my shoulder again but his grip was loose. His voice fell to a whisper. "He did not tell me the secret. He said I was strong enough already—He lied, I think." His last words faded to silence. His eyes rolled upward.

I caught him around the chest and eased his slide to the ground. Gods, he was heavy. This would have been a bad time for a vampire to show up but luckily it was Anomen who came through the doorway. He moved slowly, with weariness dragging at his feet.

"There was another vampire upstairs," he said. "And three bodies. One was little more than a lad." He gave a heavy sigh. "The vampires have defiled them. I cannot raise them. I fear they will need to be cleansed on the pyre." He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Keeta, my love, I need you to cut off their heads so they cannot be brought back as vampire spawn."

"I will."

He looked down at Sarevok.

"I will take care of him," he said and he sighed again.


	4. A Worthy Opponent

**Ch. 4…A Worthy Opponent**

Sarevok had almost no memory of anything that happened after leaving the bar with the dark-haired vampire. I told him to count his blessings but I guess I couldn't really blame him for not leaving it at that. After I brushed off his questions at breakfast, I saw him accost Anomen.

I was busy with the straps to my leather armor when Sarevok strode into my room. He looked annoyed already so I decided to skip the lecture on the virtue of knocking before barging into a lady's bedchamber. I've never really felt like much of a lady, truth be told, despite Anomen's insistence upon treating me like one. I satisfied myself with a frown at his rudeness.

"Tell me—" he said but since he'd treated me to Sembian manners, I felt free to interrupt.

"Can this wait? I'm expected downstairs."

The plan was that Anomen, Keldorn and I would tackle the vampire nest this morning. Sandwiched between two holy warriors, the chances were good that I wouldn't see any combat at all so my leather would be more than adequate. Once we were sure the warrens were safe, Imoen and Jaheira would search for the secret passage that we hoped existed.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"Vampire-hunting." I gave him a haughty look to show that it really wasn't any of his business but I was answering out of ladylike graciousness.

"So it's true. Last night, that wench—"

"Was a vampire, yes. There is a nest of them here."

"A nest of vampires."

"Have you never dealt with them?" He shook his head. How odd it was—Sarevok had always been this terrifying powerful figure to me. Yet there were things I had faced that he had not. Maybe many things—I'd had a hard year of adventuring while he had laid in his tomb.

His hand went to his throat. There was no mark. Anomen had healed the small wound. But I've been chewed on by vampires a time or two myself.

"Vampire bites are strange," I said. "They can trouble you for quite some time. I don't know why." Anomen said it was because their bite was unclean. I supposed it was a kind of taint for I've been bitten by disgustingly foul zombies and ghasts without noticing any lingering effect.

"How did you come to find me?" I heard anger in his tone and not a shred of gratitude for his rescue. I'm not sure I would have felt much different in his place. He had certainly put himself in a humiliating position. Lucky for him he didn't remember any of the really embarrassing parts. I met his eyes briefly—their glow was barely noticeable in the daylight but that seemed normal for him—then turned away to reach for my weapon belt.

"I haven't been spying and following you around, if that's what you're wondering," I said. "It was luck, that's all." I took a little longer with the buckle than I needed, giving it all my attention, but Sarevok didn't take the hint.

"Luck? Your priest tells a different story."

The idea of having a presentiment—or whatever it was—about Sarevok made me really uncomfortable. I don't like things I don't understand especially when they happen to me. I had no desire to discuss it and particularly not with him. I'd much rather go kill vampires.

After what had happened to Sarevok, I'd dug my helm that protected against charm spells out of my bag. I hated the battered old thing but it worked well enough. The weight of my sword dragged pleasantly at my hip. I walked past Sarevok to grab up my pack. My main contribution for the day was to be pack mule for the stakes and holy water that we might not even need if Anomen did his normal thorough job of undead destruction.

Sarevok blocked the doorway. He was so tall he had to duck. He glowered down at me.

"I do not care to be in your debt!"

"I'm sure you don't," I said. It would eat away at him too. I just knew it. I couldn't help it; I grinned. "Life is like that. We end up with debts we can never repay. Luckily we aren't required to. Let me pass."

He fumed but he did so.

* * *

We returned to the inn for a belated midday meal. The vampires had all fallen before Helm's power except for one, their leader. She fell to Keldorn's blessed sword. As I'd feared, I'd had nothing to do. I'd suffered all the tension of creeping soft-footed through the dark narrow corridors of the dungeon expecting an attack from the shadows at any moment. And I'd had none of the release of an actual fight. I was so fidgety it felt like my skin was too tight.

Keldorn escorted Jaheira and Imoen back to the prison to begin their search. Anomen was exhausted, as he often was after channeling so much of the god's power. He went upstairs to take a nap. There was no way I could settle down. I decided to seek out Captain Samand of the Saradush Guard to give him the news of the demise of the vampires. Maybe he'd be pleased to hear that we'd actually done something to help the city after the fiasco of our arrival. My real purpose was to ask if he would give me access to his training yard so I could work off some of my excess energy. Perhaps some of his men would be open to a sparring session with a Bhaalspawn.

With this in mind, I grabbed a quick light meal of bread and the local pepper cheese. The barmaid toasted it so the bread was crisp on the outside and the cheese all gooey and delicious within. Sarevok found me in the common room scarfing it down.

"Is your task done?" he asked. My mouth was full so I nodded. "Do you now have the leisure to speak to me?" He sounded as angry and impatient as before. Add some sarcasm on top and that wasn't much incentive for a chat. I shook my head.

"I was just on my way out."

"You have no interest in my information on Il-Khan?" He gave me that Sembian bargaining look of his, the one I remembered from the cocoon plane.

"You know I do." I sighed but I was still too restless to sit still. "Walk with me and we can talk along the way." His ready agreement despite the heat of the day made me wonder if he was as restless as I was. I watched him from the side of my eye and decided that he was. I was already tired of being trapped in this city and it had only been a day.

The catapults had resumed their assault not long after dawn, interrupting my morning devotions. Those few people we saw out in the streets walked quickly and stayed near the shelter of taller buildings. As we approached the walls, I began eyeing the sky more frequently. During the early days of the siege Yaga-Shura had loaded human bodies into his catapults and flung them over the walls. They'd most likely been peasants from the outlying areas or townsfolk who had managed to flee the city before all the seals and wards had been placed.

The barkeep who told me this tale said not all the victims had been dead before they'd been launched. He swore he'd heard screams from the sky. Despite Imoen's warning, I was now convinced that Yaga-Shura badly needed killing.

Sarevok had managed to speak to several of Il-Khan's mercenaries. He learned that some of Gromnir's officers were Bhaalspawn as well, including two of his mages and his spymaster.

"Is that unusual?" I asked. "You speak like that has some significance."

"It continues to surprise me how little knowledge you have of your own kind."

"Considering that just about every one of 'my kind' that I've met has immediately tried to kill me, I don't know why that would surprise you."

"You were raised in a very storehouse of knowledge yet learned nothing of the lore that pertains to you. Gorion and his Harper kin did you a vast disservice by keeping you in ignorance. What were they thinking? To send you out so unprepared for the time ahead seems almost malicious."

"Despite my vast ignorance I haven't done so badly," I said, pissed that he brought up Gorion's name and more pissed that he dared to criticize him.

"No," he said. "You have not."I gave him a hard look to see if he was mocking me. "It is unusual for Bhaalspawn to work together," he said. "Gromnir must be powerful and strong-willed to rule over several of his lesser kin. I suspect he will be a worthy opponent."

"Why do you say he rules over them?"

"Because that is how it must be with our kind. That is the only way we can tolerate each other's presence."

"I don't know why you say that. Imoen and I—"

"You have dominated Imoen ever since the two of you were thrown together by those meddling Harpers."

I stopped in the center of the nearly deserted street.

"I have not. You don't know what you're talking about."

"The Harpers weren't the only ones monitoring your progress, Keeta. I have been watching you off and on since your childhood."

"That's impossible. I never left Candlekeep until—that night." The night he had ambushed Gorion and I during our flight from our home—the night he had murdered my father.

"Many things are possible to one sufficiently determined. You might take care to remember that."

_How far did _your_ determination get you_, I wanted to ask but (despite his snotty comments) there seemed no point in rubbing his own failure in his face.

"I'll make a note of it. Anyway, you're wrong about us. If anything, she ran circles around me when we were kids. Still does. She was always the smart one." Sarevok shook his head.

"Yours was always the stronger will. I suspect your presence overwhelmed her taint and stunted its development. Do not look so appalled, Keeta. You no doubt spared her sensations she would have found distasteful. She might have remained unaware of her taint to this day if that elven mage had not separated you."

Despite the heat, I felt a cold shadow like that of some monstrous bird passing over me. For a heartbeat, my sweat felt chill on my skin.

"What do you know of Jon Irenicus? How could you know anything of what happened? You were dead when he captured me."

"My death did not sever the ties that wove our fates together," he said. "There were times when I could glimpse the events of your life, vaguely, like a dream."

"What fun for you," I said. Perhaps having to dream of me was one of his punishments. Or perhaps watching me endure the mage's 'experiments' had given him respite from his own suffering. The thought of Sarevok as a ghost hovering unseen by my side was no more pleasant than the thought he'd been spying on me since I was a child. Not that I totally believed him. For one thing, I thought we were fairly close in age. If there was so much as ten years between us, I'd be surprised.

"So what's your point about Gromnir Il-Khan?" I asked.

"He is strong. He will not reason with you for he will feel the antipathy of the strong for the strong. You must be prepared for that."

"I don't understand why some Bhaalspawn are so much stronger than others. We share the same amount of divine blood, do we not?"

"A man may have a dozen sons but are they equal? Or is one gifted above the others?" he asked. "You have always been focused and disciplined, have you not?"

"I suppose." Unlike Imoen who had dreamed of many things, I had always known what I wanted. I had followed the guardsmen about their duties before I was old enough to be taught my letters. I had taken to weapons training like one born to the sword despite all Gorion's not so subtle discouragement.

"Something in your character allows the taint to work with greater effect. It was the same with me."

_I am not like you and I never have been_, I wanted to say. His eyes challenged me to deny our kinship. I looked away.

At the Watch post, I gave Captain Samand my news and got permission to pass through his barracks and use his practice yard. Since Sarevok continued to hover by my side, I asked if he wanted to practice together. I hadn't expected him to agree.

Judging by the cooking odors, the off-duty soldiers were eating or had just finished their meal. At any rate, the practice yard was empty although I saw a couple of lads fletching arrows on the low balcony that overlooked the yard. The sun had dipped below the top of the building, giving a very welcome shade. At the far end of the yard, targets were set up but I doubted they saw much use now. All the target practice anyone could want was available up on the city walls.

Closer to hand, there were several straw-filled dummies, a sloppy pyramid of rolled up mats for wrestling and a couple of racks of wooden practice weapons and protective gear. I was drawn to the quarterstaves.

I think most trainers start their students on the staff—a simple weapon, easy to learn but useful for teaching the basic patterns of strikes and guards that are needed before one can progress to more complex weapons. Being sword-mad, I had despised the time I'd been forced to drill on the quarterstaff. However, travelling with Jaheira had taught me new respect for the lowly weapon.

"Here," I said. He took the staff with no comment. He was still wearing Anomen's clothes while he waited for the tailor to finish the outfits he'd ordered. "You better grab one of those tunics," I added. The tunics were padded to protect the chest, groin and upper legs. The staves were light and flexible enough that they probably wouldn't do any serious damage but they could certainly raise a nasty welt.

"It's too hot."

He was right. In the interest of fairness and coolness both, I loosened the straps and slipped out of my own leather tunic. I considered stripping down to my undershirt but I'd noticed that most of the women in town kept their arms covered even in the dreadful heat and I didn't want to offend Samand's men.

"Be careful. If you take out my eye, I won't be pleased," I said. Sarevok twitched his lip a little in acknowledgement.

I could tell just by the way he held his staff that we had been trained differently, so I started out with some basic attacks and blocks, striking at the head, torso and then the knee in a slow pattern to warm up. He echoed my moves. Of course, even in a drill one can't help but begin to size up one's opponent. Sarevok and I had fought twice, both times in heavy armor, both times with great swords. Those had been, for the most part, tests of strength. We both knew that in a straight-out contest of strength, Sarevok would win. The man was built like a bull.

Strength is useful when wielding the quarterstaff but not more so than speed and agility. And there, I suspected I had the advantage. I increased the speed of the drill. The mindless exercise felt good. It was relaxing—too relaxing, I decided. Sarevok's eyes were watchful but perhaps a little bored so I started throwing feints at him. He responded in kind and before long, neither of us was relaxed at all.

My only purpose in coming here was to work off my fidgets but as we sparred, I started to lose sight of that. I couldn't decide if we were evenly matched or if Sarevok was holding back. I pressed harder and harder and I still couldn't tell. That was frustrating. It didn't help that he had hit me in the side several times in the same place, exploiting a weakness in my guard that Jaheira had told me of tens of times already. That he had spotted it so quickly increased my frustration. With a weighted staff, he could have caved in my ribs. Soon we were sparring furiously and my world had narrowed to the stick in my hand and the man I wanted to yield to me.

Cool water hit me with shocking effect. Sarevok stepped back with his staff held in a loose guard position. My head whipped up. Captain Samand stood right above me on the balcony, so close I could tap his foot with my staff. There was a bucket in his hand and a grin on his face. It looked like half the off-duty guards had crowded next to him to watch.

"Hey now," he shouted. "Are you deaf? I told you two to stand down. We don't have a healer on call, you know." He had been laughing but at my look, all joviality fled his face. The man at his side actually took a step back away from the railing.

"It's too hot for you Northerners to work so hard. Our water barrels are in the inner courtyard," the captain said. "Both of you better drink your fill on your way out."

Well, that dismissal was pointed enough. We racked our weapons and I picked up my gear. I put on my weapon belt but I was much too hot to wear my leather. My heart was still pounding and from more than the exercise. I heard low mutters from above me as we headed for the courtyard.

"It's my eyes," I said to Sarevok. "They're doing that thing, aren't they? Like yours do."

"Yes."

Well, hells, so much for trying to pass for human.

As we walked back to the inn, I became increasingly aware that I had taken a pretty good beating. So had Sarevok. There was a welt on his face that just missed his eye and his ear looked puffy. He was used to the protection of a helmet or maybe a blow to the face didn't bother him as much as it did me. Perhaps this was a weakness in my form—I should get Jaheira's opinion.

"Do you hurt as much as I do?" I asked. He returned my sideways look.

"Most likely I do."

"I guess I got a little carried away. Sorry." After we'd walked a bit further, I added, "I'm accustomed to having Anomen around when I fight. I shouldn't have sparred without him."

"Are your injuries that painful?" His brows rose in surprise.

"No. It's not the healing I need him for, nice as that is. " I wasn't sure I wanted to finish my thought but Sarevok gave me a questioning look. "I stay in control better when he's around."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know." I was distracted by the sound of two catapults firing at almost the same moment. We both looked up but didn't see anything headed our way. "The first time I turned into the Slayer, I almost killed him. I didn't know what I was doing or what was happening to me. Ever since then—" I looked up into Sarevok's face. I found myself wondering what thoughts he was hiding behind his neutral expression. "He helps me remember who I am—or maybe who I want to be."

We walked on in silence, stepping around broken cobbles and debris.

"Tell me how you came to seek me out last night," he asked.

"Surely Anomen told you already."

"He said you had a premonition that I was in danger." He sounded skeptical and I didn't blame him.

"Well, there you have it."

"There must be more to it than that."

"There wasn't. It was just a feeling, all right?"

"Yet this feeling was strong enough to send you out searching for me through a strange city, placing yourself at risk. Why?"

When I didn't answer, he took my arm so that I had to face him.

"No, do not shrug this off. I want an explanation."

"What difference does it make? Can't you just accept that I helped you out for no particular reason?"

"No, I cannot."

He grabbed my other arm and stared down into my face as if he could squeeze answers from me by sheer force of personality. My breath caught in my chest. He had said that our fates were woven together, a binding that even death could not unravel. I didn't want to believe him. But there was something—I could almost put a name to it—

I twisted out of his hold.

"I have no answers for you," I said and my voice was as harsh as his.


	5. Old Promises

**Ch. 5…Old Promises**

"So, Sarevok, I hear you're quite the ladies' man," Imoen said at dinner.

The look Sarevok gave her would have stopped a dire boar in its tracks. Of course, Imoen has always been immune to such looks.

We'd gathered in the Tankard Tree's private sitting room. Jaheira, who despised the racket of the common room, had hired it for the length of our stay. I'd found Sarevok drinking at the bar when I came downstairs to eat. I wouldn't have thought him the type to drown his sorrows, but at least he was drinking ale and not muddling his head with whiskey. Perhaps he was just thirsty after our exertions. I'd almost emptied the pitcher of water in my room earlier.

He had been sitting alone at the end of the bar, his expression pensive and guarded. His head lifted when I stepped into the room and his eyes met mine. When I jerked my head towards our reserved room in silent invitation, he picked up his mug and followed me.

The food was a repeat of the previous night, with more beans and less meat. There was bread, though, and the cheese I'd asked for. Imoen scowled when we entered the room together but she held back the barbs until the serving girl left.

"Yeah," Imoen continued. "I hear when you walk into a bar, the ladies start crowding around to buy you drinks. Not just the house ale either but liquor from the barman's special stock. I hear they practically have a shoving match deciding who gets to take you home."

Sarevok's jaw was clenched tight but he said nothing. I would have liked to blame Anomen for blabbing the details of how Sarevok had been picked up by vampires but unfortunately the fault was mine. That the canny Sarevok had been caught out like a youth on his first trip to the big city was too good to keep to myself. Imoen had wondered if his resurrection had scrambled his wits.

I wondered if he'd been careless because he had nothing left to care about.

"Yep," she said. "You sure are popular. What's your secret, brother? Is it that you're so—big? Is it your godlike stature, do you think?"

She had angled herself so I couldn't kick her under the table. Anomen had the glassy-eyed look he got when someone insisted upon a public display of boorishness.

"You had the ladies fighting over you in Baldur's Gate, too," she continued. "There was that one we met in your old headquarters, what was her name? Cythandria? Walked like a tavern dancer, talked like a lunatic. You remember her, I bet. I think she was hoping to play Elminster to your Mystra. She wasn't as good as she thought she was but then, hey, neither were you."

Sarevok set down his spoon, then folded his napkin and placed it next to his bowl. His movements were slow and precise.

"That's enough, Imoen," I said. Teasing him about last night's escapade was one thing. Taunting him with the events of Baldur's Gate was another. She ignored me.

"And then there was that little black-haired cleric? Remember her? Now what was her name?"

"Tamoko."

Sarevok's voice was calm but I eased my chair away from the table. Sarevok was famous for his hasty temper. I knew he was still wearing that new short sword he'd had earlier. Beside my eating knife, all I had was my long dagger—not the ideal tool for blocking an attack. I spared a glance for the others. Anomen and Keldorn looked uncomfortable but confused. These names meant nothing to them. Jaheira knew what Imoen was doing but she had settled back in her chair. She turned her glass in her hand and refused to meet my eye.

No one seemed to realize just how ugly this could turn.

"Yeah, that's right. Tamoko. She came to us, you know," Imoen said. There was more than her normal mischief in her eyes; there was malice. "She got down on her pretty knees before Keeta and begged her to save you. Her voice was shaking and everything. Real pathetic, Sarevok, you should have heard her. And you know what's even more pathetic? Keeta promised her that she would try. Are you still trying to keep that old promise, Keeta?" She gave me an elaborate eye roll. "Honestly, you're so buffleheaded sometimes. Maybe you should ask Keldorn to give you paladin lessons. Except—oh, yeah, paladins don't bring the villains back to life. They smite 'em."

"Stop it, Imoen," I said.

"You weren't very grateful, were you, Sarevok? You sent that little cleric out alone against us. Told her to kill us all or die trying, didn't you? Somehow I don't think you expected her to actually pull it off."

"She had betrayed me."

"Yep," Imoen said. "She sure did. You've got to be tough on those betrayers. I'm totally with you on that. Even the ones who say they love you and are just trying to save you from your own mad doom. But here's the funny part, Sarevok. Keeta wouldn't play your game."

Was she trying to provoke him into anger or just cause him pain? Sarevok's face was very still but I could see the tension in his body.

"Nope, she wouldn't fight her," Imoen said. "Keeta told Tamoko to leave. She said she would do her best to keep her word and spare you. And she tried to talk to you, remember? Not that you were exactly listening."

"You let Tamoko live?" His expression didn't give a lot away but I could feel his anger building, as if it had been my own. "No. I don't believe you. I know she's dead."

Imoen cocked her head. There was a fey smile on her lips.

"Well, here's the thing, Sarevok. I think that you do believe me. I think you believe that's exactly the kind of thing Keeta would do. See, I think you knew what you were doing when you asked her to give you life back in the pocket plane. I didn't see you asking _me_ for a share of my divine soul."

She and Sarevok eyed each other like unfriendly cats.

"But you're right about Tamoko," Imoen said. "Met her in the Hells, did you? She's dead all right. Your Grand Duke friends, the few who survived your lovely party, sent the Fist after her. They strung her up and left her for the crows. Right in the center of town, too, along with what was left of your other supporters. Or should I say 'worshippers'?"

Imoen leaned across the table towards Sarevok. She let her voice drop as if she were telling him a scandalous bit of gossip.

"Can you imagine Keeta's surprise when they presented her with that grisly little tableau? They thought she would be pleased. You should have seen her face. None of us are real squeamish any more, but it wasn't a pretty sight, let me tell you."

"Imoen, shut up for pity's sake," I said.

"For pity's sake?" She laughed. "Sarevok, do you know what Keeta did 'for pity's sake'? She made them take the bodies down. Found some old priest of Ilmater to pray over your Tamoko. He said he'd been to Kara-Tur and knew something of their rites. She paid for the burial herself too. What do you think of that, Sarevok?"

"Jaheira, I ask you to cast a spell and Silence Imoen now," I said.

"Imoen has a right to speak her mind," Jaheira said. Something about the lighting or the tilt of her head made her expression remote, almost alien. It was as if her human side was gone and only her elf blood remained. I knew she wouldn't intervene. I tried again.

"There is no point in bringing up old—"

"Oh, yes there is," Imoen said. "There's a very important point. The point is, Keeta—you know what kind of man he is. You know what he's done. It's great that you think everyone can improve themselves and deserves a second chance and all that Morninglord pap you've been lapping up since you were six. But this is Sarevok we're talking about. Do you honestly think he sees your pity as anything but a weakness to be exploited?"

Imoen gave him a hard stare. His chair scraped across the floor as he surged to his feet. I jumped up as well and my hand hovered over the hilt of my dagger. But Sarevok didn't attack. With one last furious look, directed more towards me than to Imoen, he left.

"What in Lathander's name is wrong with you, Imoen?" I hadn't meant to shout.

"Me? I think we're all wondering what is wrong with _you_. Are you and Sarevok great pals now or what?"

"Of course not." I sat back down but despite the voracious appetite that healing gives me I'd lost interest in my dinner.

"But you go sneaking off with him without a word to anyone. Anomen about had a fit when he woke up and found you both gone. Didn't you?"

Anomen shot me an apologetic look. It was true he'd had something of a fit at our battered condition when we'd returned to the inn. My explanation that we'd been sparring hadn't exactly cooled him down either. He'd been upset enough to chew me out in the hall where everyone could hear. For a time there, I'd been afraid I'd have to get my healing out of a bottle but he'd finally wound down. Presumably Helm didn't mind the irritated tone in which he made his invocations when he healed me.

"I didn't go sneaking off! I meant to leave a message with the barkeep but I forgot."

"You were in such a hurry to go shopping together, hey?"

"We didn't go shopping."

"So was it one of his other lady friends who paid the bills from the cobbler and the armorer I saw in his room? Siege towns don't take credit, you know."

"Do you expect me to send him off without a stitch of clothes or gear?"

"What I _expect_ is for you to remember who we're talking about here. You've seen how he treats the people who try to save him. Not just Tamoko, either. Remember that old mage of his, Winski Perorate? Remember how he saved Sarevok's life by snatching him out of that fight at the palace? Remember how Sarevok repaid him—with a blade in the gut? You do remember all this, right?"

"I remember."

"So why in the Nine Hells are you buying Sarevok weapons and armor? Why are you letting him follow you around like a lost puppy?"

Why should I try to explain something I wasn't sure I understood myself? I shook my head and left the table.

Later that evening, after the bombardment stopped, Anomen and I took a walk around town. The streets which had been almost deserted during the day were busy now, giving something close to a carnival atmosphere. We ended up on the walls where it was quiet and dark. We looked out over the campfires of Yaga-Shura's forces. The few night sentries gave us curious looks but did not challenge us. Oh, the joys of notoriety.

"How long do you think the walls will hold?" I asked Anomen.

"I couldn't say. The little I know of siege warfare comes from books and stories, I'm afraid."

"Maybe we'll find a way into the palace tomorrow."

Imoen and Jaheira had not found any secret doors but they had noticed a couple of spots where the masonry didn't match. Imoen suspected an old passageway had been bricked over when the prison was abandoned. They'd bought pry bars and hammers in the marketplace. In the morning we'd try knocking out some bricks.

"What are your plans, Keeta, once we get free of this town?" It was too dark to read his expression but I could feel that he was uneasy. "Do you plan to involve yourself in this war—this Bhaalspawn conflict?"

"I would love nothing better than to run away from the whole mess. Sometimes I think I should go hide in the most remote wilderness I can find. Haven't you always wanted to see the Spine of the World?" I smiled to myself. Jaheira would favor that plan. "I wish I could believe it would work."

"So do I."

He put his arm around my waist. I leaned against him. Would the forces that had dragged me to the Abyss release me now? Logic said not.

"I'm not sure there is much point in making plans since it looks like they are being made for me," I said.

"It is worrisome."

"Worrisome. Yes, that's a word for it." I had to force myself to relax against my rising restlessness. I had said I wanted to run away from this conflict but was that true? The Bhaalspawn that Melissan had tried to lead to safety had ended up here, trapped like rats in a barrel. If we were drawing closer to the end that Bhaal had envisioned, would it not be better to face it boldly?

"Tell me, Anomen, do you think prophecies can be broken? Does my taint make it inevitable that I spread chaos wherever I go, no matter what my intentions?"

"I wish I knew the answer. But—forgive me, my love—does it matter?"

"What?"

"Would you not fight the taint even if you knew the end result would be the same? Is it not in your character to resist the evil in your blood?"

"I hope so." I guess Anomen could tell that his words had taken me aback for he patted my arm.

"I do not mean to sound fatalistic. You know that is not my belief. What I do believe is that you should live by your principles as best you can. Leave the rest to the gods. You cannot be responsible for events that Bhaal set into motion years before your birth."

"Are you certain?"

"I do not think you are meant to run from your fate. I think you are meant to fight on the side of righteousness. And Ao sent his Solar to you, which gives me hope."

"What is your hope?"

"I hope that there might be an end to this conflict one day. I—you said there is no point in making plans. And yet I cannot help but look ahead and hope—Keeta, you know you hold my heart in your hands."

I turned to face him. We stood so close that our hips touched. He put both arms around my back. The moon was behind him; his face was in shadow.

"I love you, too," I said.

"My dearest hope is that one day you might accept my name as well as my heart."

If I'd been untouched by prophecies and taints, perhaps we could make plans like lovers love to do. But I carried my fate in my veins and presumably my future was written in Alaundo's books. Alaundo's prophecies were full of warnings, not happy endings.

"I know this is not the time to speak of such things," he said, when I made no reply. "But I did not wish you to be in any doubt of my intentions."

"Anomen—"

He laid his finger over my lips.

"Nay, my love, we will not speak of this yet. I did not mean to trouble you." He leaned in to give me a light kiss.

I wondered if he had silenced me because he was afraid of how I would answer him.

And the truth was that I had no answer. I thought Anomen was hoping for more than an exchange of vows and an end to our vagabond ways. He had grown up in a home dominated by his father, who was spiteful when sober and enraged the rest of the time. He had seen his mother shamed and had borne the brunt of his father's scorn. I thought his dreams as a man were not so different from his dreams as a lad.

Most of his conflicts with Keldorn back in the early days of our travels had been due, I suspected, to simple envy. Keldorn, highly respected by the Order of the Radiant Heart, with his beautiful highborn wife, well-mannered children and his perfectly ordered estate, already had everything that Anomen had strived so hard to win for himself. In the days when he had little more than his great-grandfather's shield and the armor he had scrounged, when he was desperate to perform some action that would win him notice, Keldorn's admonitions must have flayed him like a scourge. Anomen had clung to his pride as a shield against despair but Keldorn had seen through it—had seen it as the barrier it truly was to his advancement.

Anomen had grown so much since those days. Sometimes I thought my struggles against Bhaal's blood had helped him understand his own black rages. Or perhaps it had been the other way around. At any rate, he had won the respect he had hungered for but I knew he still longed for a life of honor and stability. I did not see how I could fit into such a life.

Aside from the chaos that clung to me, I was a warrior, not a lady. Anomen was a warrior priest whose duties would take him traveling constantly, much as Keldorn's did. To settle down in Athkatla, running a household while my husband went about the business of the Order—no, that was not for me. To fight by his side would suit me better, but even that had its problems. I could not see the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart accepting a Bhaalspawn into its exclusive ranks. And even if they would, I wasn't so sure I could subordinate myself to their discipline. I had been my own master for far too long.

We returned to the inn. I could tell that my reaction had disappointed him but feared that sharing any of my concerns would only make things worse.

Imoen accosted me at the stairwell. She must have been listening for my return. Anomen raised his brows at my muttered curse then went on up to our room. He'd carefully made no comment earlier on Imoen's behavior at dinner.

"Keeta, I need a favor."

I gave her an incredulous look. "I am very angry with you."

"Yeah, well, maybe this isn't the best time—"

"Tell me what you want so I can say no and go to bed."

"Aw, don't be that way. I'm just looking out for you, you know."

"Yeah, right, thanks. I don't think I've ever seen you treat someone with such deliberate cruelty, Imoen."

"Cruelty? To Sarevok? Did I say anything but the truth? He deserves a hundred times worse than what I said to him and you know it. You and I have just as much of Bhaal's taint as he did and we don't go around stabbing our friends and starting wars."

"No? Between us, we've left a lot of bodies on the ground. More than Sarevok. Maybe a _lot_ more. You might recall our stroll through the Underdark, just as an example."

"That's different."

"To us, maybe. Not to Bhaal."

"I can't believe you're defending him. Sheesh. You make me crazy sometimes."

"I'm not defending what he did in the past. But why bring that up now? He's already lost everything. Why not give him a chance to start again?"

"Please tell me you're not feeling sympathy for Sarevok. Please tell me you are not that stupid."

"Maybe I am. Feel free to sneer at my faith again, while you're at it."

"Come on, you know I didn't mean it that way." At my look, she added, "Fine, then, I'm sorry. For that part, mind you, not for what I said to Sarevok."

"Your sincerity overwhelms me."

"Yeah, yeah, you talk big but you know you want to forgive me. You can't help it." I snorted. "So forgive me quick 'cause I've got stuff to do. I need you to pop me up to the pocket plane for a little while. I've got some sketches and notes for Cespenar. Gosh, I hope he can read Common." She gave me a comical look that was meant to make me laugh. It almost worked.

"Forget it." I turned away.

"We'll do it tomorrow then, once those morning prayers of yours have calmed you down," she chirped. I couldn't hear her footsteps on the stairs—she'd always moved lightly—but I didn't have to look to see that she was gone. I could sense her absence.

On a hunch, I looked into the taproom before heading up to bed. Once again, Sarevok sat alone at the bar. The look he gave me when I slid onto the stool beside him explained why his end of the bar was empty while most of the tables were full. Basilisks had nothing on him.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a drinking man," I said, once the bartender set a mug before me.

"I wasn't," he said. "What I am now remains to be seen."

We drank in silence. His face was forbidding but if he had truly wanted solitude, he wouldn't seek it in a noisy tavern. I wasn't sure what impulse had brought me here and yet—I wondered what he was thinking. Was he sad? Angry? Lonely? Did he regret the deaths of his friends and supporters? Was it thoughts of the past that darkened his brow—or was it questions about his future?

I studied his profile from the side of my eye. I felt the urge to touch him, to see if he was real. To see a person resurrected is to witness a miracle. To think that _I_ was the vehicle for such a miracle—it was hard to understand. And yet the idea fascinated me. If the taint in my blood could be turned to a good purpose perhaps it was not such a curse as I had always feared.

"To be given life from the daughter of Murder—it is ironic, is it not?" His words were a low rumble, spoken for my ear alone. I turned and stared.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" I asked.

"Does it seem strange that we share such a thought?"

"No stranger than the reality of your existence, I guess." I tapped the back of his hand. My fingers seemed pale against his dark skin. And then I asked what I had wanted to ask since this began. "Do you feel any different now that the taint is gone?"

His hand moved. In a flash, his fingers curled tight around my wrist. It took me an effort to stay still and not yank my hand away. His fingers were warm, strong, and felt every bit as real as my own.

"My body feels the same as it ever has," he said. He released me. "As for the rest—I do not know. I cannot make sense of what has happened."

"You will," I said. "Give it time. You probably won't find any answers in the bottom of a mug though." Or in a courtesan's arms either, I thought but decided not to bring that incident up again.

"What do you advise for me? Patience and prayer? Shall I seek my answers on the training ground or in honest labor, perhaps?"

The look he gave me was close enough to a smile that I smiled in return. Was his reaction so different from my own upon regaining my soul from Jon Irenicus? I'd drunk my share of strong elven wine during our convalescence in Suldanessellar. Anomen and I had celebrated our return to life in more primal ways as well.

"Sorry for the platitudes." I took a drink. The ale was good, I had to admit. "Still, there's much to be said for patience and prayer." At his snort, I added, "Not that I'm an expert at either. Physical activity works for me, often as not. If it is honest labor you want, we'll be breaking bricks tomorrow. Maybe you should join us."


	6. Taking the Palace

**Ch. 6…Taking the Palace**

The catapult bombardment started after dawn, right on schedule. Dishes rattled on the breakfast table at a particularly close hit. I hoped we wouldn't be here long enough to become accustomed to the sound. After eating, we met in the hall outside our suite of rooms. Our gear collected curious stares from the inn's staff. Like Keldorn, Anomen and I had decided to dress out in full plate. If we managed to find a way into the palace, we'd best be prepared for a fight. I hadn't given up hope for a peaceful chat with Il-Khan but I remembered Sarevok's warning. Besides, breaking through the general's defenses was a hostile act, and all too likely to provoke a hostile reaction.

The armorer hadn't finished reworking the plate armor I'd given to Sarevok so he was back in his borrowed chain shirt. I handed him the heavy sack of tools. If he wanted honest labor, he could take my place as pack mule. He gave me a wry look that Imoen intercepted.

"What's _he_ doing here?" she asked.

"If he does a good job carrying a sack, maybe I'll let him show us how well he swings a pick," I said. Sarevok's response to my smile was ambiguous but Imoen's scowl was plain to see.

"Oh, no, he's not—"

Before she could get started, I grabbed her by the elbow and jerked her away from the others. I didn't bother to hide my irritation either.

"Rein it in, Imoen. I heard enough from you last night."

"He is _not_ coming with us."

"He is. I think the question is—are _you_ coming with us?"

"You—" she sputtered. "You _need_ me."

"Yes," I said. "I do. What I do not need is your attitude right now. Rein it in or wait here until we get back."

"No, I will not _rein it in_. He is _not_ going to worm his way into our group." She gave Sarevok a glare over my shoulder. "I see where this is going. He's playing you like a lute and if you can't see it—" She spun on her heel and pointed at Keldorn. "Tell her, Keldorn. Tell her you won't have this, this blackguard by our side."

Keldorn gave Imoen a grave look.

"I would prefer to discuss this only with the people directly involved."

"As long as he's hanging around, we're all directly involved," Imoen said.

"In this, I agree," Jaheira added. Anomen's face was troubled but he said nothing. Keldorn nodded and turned to Sarevok.

"I will say this. Although normally I would not choose to travel with one of your repute, I feel the gods have given you a unique opportunity. I will judge you by your deeds, Sarevok Anchev, and not by your past."

"That is all I ask of any of you," Sarevok said. I couldn't tell if the hint of mockery in his tone was directed towards us or himself but Imoen flushed with anger. She opened her mouth to protest and I gave her arm a hard squeeze. I caught the full strength of her glare before she pulled away.

There wasn't much talk until we worked our way through the old prison to the spot Imoen wanted to check. She summoned a globe of light. We tapped and examined a section of brickwork that was clearly newer than the surrounding walls. I couldn't hear any difference in the taps but if Jaheira thought the wall was hollow, that was good enough for me. Anomen cast a Silence spell so that we wouldn't alert anyone in the palace to our activity. Then the rest of us stepped back and let him and Sarevok get busy with the picks and hammers.

By the time the spell wore off, they had knocked a fair-sized hole in the wall. We crowded together to peer through the hole but human eyes could not penetrate the darkness. A faint draft came towards us and it carried a nasty smell.

"I will check," Jaheira said. With no other warning, she transformed into a large badger and disappeared into the opening. Sarevok, who was not used to her ways, was so startled that he dropped his hammer.

"I hate it when she does that," I said.

"I love it," Imoen replied. "I'm so jealous."

"I've seen you change shape."

"With a spell but it's not the same. When I change my body to look like something else, I'm still me," she said. "It's like wearing a really elaborate disguise. But she _becomes_ the beast."

The wait for her return seemed endlessly long, particularly since it seemed wise to keep conversation to a minimum. After throwing him a few malevolent looks, Imoen chose to ignore Sarevok altogether. I had to constantly squelch the urge to pace or fiddle with my gear. I'm reasonably patient but I had been very much on edge ever since we arrived in Saradush. Perhaps it was due to the bombardment, although here under the ground we were shielded from the noise. Perhaps it was simply due to the knowledge that I could not leave the city. I have never liked to be confined.

Almost every time I looked up, I found Sarevok's gaze upon me. Self-consciousness made me feel more fidgety than ever so the scrabble of Jaheira's claws as she climbed through the hole in the wall was welcome indeed. She changed back to her normal form but turned away from us all and stood still a moment. She always needed time to order her thoughts after a shapechange.

"The corridor splits," she said. "In one direction, there is a large grate in the floor and a barred shaft overhead. This is where waste from the privies above drops into the sewers beneath the city."

I thought I'd recognized the all too familiar bouquet of sewage.

"Can we climb up into the palace that way?" I asked.

"I believe so, although it will be difficult to remove the upper grating without being detected. Also, I do not know exactly where the shaft leads."

"With our luck we'd end up in the guard house privies right at shift change," Imoen said. Her face said she shared my joy at the prospect. "What's in the other direction?"

"A locked door."

"Ah, that's more like it," Imoen said. Jaheira nodded.

"There are people on the other side. At least one was a half-orc, so they are probably Il-Khan's men." She looked at me. "I caught the scent of a Bhaalspawn although it was not fresh."

"You can _smell_ a Bhaalspawn?" I asked.

"In animal form I can," she said. "The unnaturalness of your kin is impossible to mistake."

I frowned. So my unnatural stench was why dogs and horses have never liked me. And no one had ever told me. Great.

"Show me this locked door, Jaheira," Imoen said. "The rest of you stay here and try to keep the racket down."

So we enjoyed another interminable wait. Keldorn sat back against the wall, closed his eyes and, to all appearances, took a nap. I fidgeted. When they finally returned, Imoen's eyes were bright with excitement.

"Well?"

"The door's not just locked, it's barred on the other side," she said.

"Can you open it?"

"Sure, with a spell. But there's a little problem. There's some kind of ward on the door. Feels nasty, too. I can't get a good look since it's scribed on the other side. We're definitely in the right place."

"Does this mean we have to go through the sewer?" I asked unenthusiastically. Surely I'd already crawled through enough crap for a lifetime. Besides, I'd just polished my armor.

"Nope, I can dispel the ward. Thing is, when I do, it's going to tip off whoever is on the other side of that door and probably the mage who cast it as well. Gonna make it hard to arrange a quiet chat with Gromnir."

"We should go in as conquerors, not as supplicants. Gromnir Il-Khan will not negotiate," Sarevok said. "Any attempt to do so puts us at unnecessary risk."

"And how could you know that?" Imoen sneered.

"He is in a trap," Sarevok said. "He has no way out now that Saradush has turned against him. There's nothing left for him to do but die. He will make the fight as bloody as possible to curry favor with Bhaal."

"Now that's just stupid," Imoen scoffed. "Pointless, too. Why would Gromnir hole up in the palace if all he wants is to die? There's an entire army outside the city, you know. He doesn't have to go far for a big bloody fight."

"He won't want to die by the hand of a common soldier," Sarevok said. The white light from Anomen's spell leached the color from his face, making him seem ghostly and insubstantial. "He waits for one of the Kin. He knows we are in the city. Perhaps he has dreamed of the one who comes for him."

The intensity of his gaze made me uneasy. Imoen and I exchanged looks. "You sound mighty certain," she said.

"He is out of choices. I know how that feels."

Even after Imoen's spell unlocked the door, it took a hard thump of Sarevok's shoulder to force it open. The playing cards scattered on the floor let us know what the two guards had been doing before we burst in on them. They did not listen to Keldorn's warning shout but went for their weapons. Sarevok killed one; I took the other. Only after they were dead did I realize they were likely not on duty at all but had come here because it was cool and quiet.

Keldorn, who hadn't drawn his sword, looked down at their bodies with regret. How he hated unnecessary bloodshed.

We were in a storeroom. We'd kicked over their lamp in the fight but with Imoen's light we didn't need it. We didn't have time to open crates but I saw sacks of flour, rounds of cheese and stone jars that, by the smell, held preserved fruit. Judging by the quantities, I figured this was part of the palace victuals and not the food supplies the citizens were clamoring for. The rest of us moved out of sight of the open doorway while Imoen cast her invisibility spell.

She didn't keep us waiting too long. When she returned, she spoke rapidly and breathlessly.

"There's not much here, just a few big rooms full of stuff and a couple of guards at the stairwell way down at the end of the hall. If I turn us all invisible, I think we can sneak past them." She gave my heavy boots a disapproving look. "Try not to scrape your feet too loud."

"Nay, Imoen," Keldorn said. "I do not care for this stealthy entrance. We are not here as spies. We are here at the bidding of the city's leadership to recall Il-Khan to his duty or to remove him, if he will not comply."

"But—"

"It is unfortunate we have had to break in like thieves but Il-Khan's refusal to parley has forced this upon us. However there is no need to continue to skulk about like thieves and I refuse to do so." He gave me a look that said this was not up for argument. Travelling with a paladin had its challenges. Imoen sighed.

"My idea is better," she said but under her breath so that only I could hear her.

So we marched down the hall.

"You will take us to General Il-Khan," Keldorn told the startled guards. There were two of them, one human, one half-orc, both wearing Il-Khan's badge of crossed halberds. I didn't know if they recognized the Radiant Heart insignia on his armor but they surely heard the command in his voice.

"How did you get in here?" the human asked.

Keldorn fixed his eyes upon him and repeated, "You will take us to your commander now."

It's hard to say no to a paladin.

We clattered up the stairs, collecting several more guards along the way. One had run forward to warn the general. We were told to wait in the large open hall that led, I expected, to the throne room. Four of the guards moved to block the corridor behind us. They wore heavy armor and carried halberds. Several more lounged against the walls. Two of them had bows, which seemed an odd choice of weapon for indoors.

When Gromnir Il-Khan strode into the room, I figured he'd kept us waiting so he could get into his armor. Like me, he wore full plate and I caught the telltale gleam of enchantment when he moved. My eyes were drawn to the morning star hanging from his belt. Like many fine weapons, it had a beautiful simplicity to its lines. _I am Death's tool_, it seemed to say, _and that is my only purpose_. I longed for a better look at its craftsmanship. I have often thought that a warrior's choice of weapon says something about their personality and so I was prepared to believe there was more to Gromnir than his brutish exterior might suggest.

Gromnir was a big man, almost as tall as me or Anomen and twice as wide, with flattened orcish features and skin as green as scum on a bog. He walked with a bandy-legged stride that should have been laughable but somehow managed to be menacing. His helmet shaded his heavy brow. Two robed men accompanied him—his mages, no doubt, and brother Bhaalspawn, if Sarevok's information was correct.

Gromnir was intimidating, that was for sure. It wasn't just his size. Before he even opened his mouth, I was convinced that Sarevok was right. He would not negotiate. That he had stopped to arm himself was a pretty broad hint but that was not what convinced me. His eyes convinced me.

The half-orc's broad nostrils flared. This, with his tusks, gave him the appearance of a boar sniffing out acorns.

"So," he said, looking Keldorn and Anomen up and down. "I'd heard Amnian justice was available to anyone with a pocketful of coin. Now I see that even the Radiant Heart is a house of sell-swords and assassins. Spare me your lies; I know why you're here."

"We are here to recall you to your duty to Saradush," Keldorn said but Gromnir's attention had moved on. His eyes were on Sarevok.

"Sarevok the Sembian," he growled. "I heard you'd been slain in Baldur's Gate. Rumors lie, I see." His brows pulled down as if he would say more but then his eyes lit upon me. "Hah," he said. "And you must be Keeta of Candlekeep." He snorted. "They said you were freakishly big and I see that it's so."

Freakish, huh? Just because I was taller than he was? At least my teeth were inside my mouth and not growing all over my face. I wondered if my fame (if that was the word) had spread all the way to Tethyr but it seemed more likely that Gromnir's spies had been busy in the town. He cocked his head as he watched me.

"Rumor has it the Harpers have been keeping you on a tight leash. Are you here at their bidding, assassin?" Jaheira made an indignant sound. I thought there was a purpose to his little gibes. He was probing us.

"Well, rumor has it you are mad," I said. "Rumors are notoriously unreliable but every once in awhile they hit upon the truth."

"Mad? And who says that?" He snorted again. "I can guess. How did you enter Saradush? Did that witch spirit you in through Yaga-Shura's so-called impenetrable wards? Hah. I am belly-sick of her lies. I had my men arrest her this morning but she slipped out of her cell. And now here you are."

"Witch? Who are you talking about?"

"Melissan, of course. Do not tell me she did not bring you here. She brought all of us here, so we can die at Yaga-Shura's hands."

Melissan was a mage? I wondered why she hadn't told us that.

"Lady Melissan brought you here to lead the defense of Saradush," Keldorn said. "And you will do so, or you will resign your position."

"And you will release the food supplies you've hoarded," Jaheira added.

"What food supplies? Do you think I have a granary hidden beneath my cloak? The stores in the palace cellars wouldn't feed this city for more than a day."

"But Melissan said—"

Gromnir shook his head.

"Fools. There is no food. This city was never prepared for a siege of any length—not with men, not with weapons and not with food. But do you think anyone wants to believe that? Hah! No, they'd rather believe the witch's lies. They'd rather pound on my door and demand that I feed them." He shook his head. "I was brought here with false promises and so, I believe, were you. But that doesn't matter now." He took a step towards me and I could see his eyes start to burn with gold fire. "Does it?" he asked. "I will not resign my position. What say you to that?"

I could feel the lust for battle coming off him like the contained heat from a forge. His eagerness fired an instant response within me. I unsheathed my sword at the same moment that he pulled loose his morning star.

"We can do it your way," I said. "If you insist."

There was shouting behind me but I paid it no mind. His steps were casual as he walked towards me but I didn't let that fool me. He was as wide as a barn door and muscled like, well, like an orc. That star of his looked wicked. The room was warm but its spikes were white with rime. Gromnir's piggish eyes were calculating, not hot with unreasoning rage like one might expect from one with orcish blood. That calculation gave me pause, especially when I saw the men in robes fall back to separate corners.

Sarevok had said Gromnir would be a worthy opponent and I figured he'd hit it spot on. I wanted to fight but this seemed like a good time for Anomen, with Helm's holy protections glittering on his armor and shield like diamonds, to wear him down a little. Anomen pushed past me, so I took that for agreement. I shifted my attention to Gromnir's mages. Taking the mages out of the fight early is a tactic that has served me well.

The fellow in the green robe was closest. I spun and ran straight for him. Even in full plate, I'm quick on my feet. I've noticed that the prospect of getting trampled by a big warrior is enough to unnerve almost anyone in robes and soft shoes. The mage's eyes widened but he did have enough presence of mind to get his stoneskin cast. I knocked him down. He hit the marble floor with a clatter and skidded towards the wall. I've yet to see a mage get a spell off while flat on his back but just in case, I gave him a good kick. He skidded a little further.

"I don't suppose you'd like to surrender?" I asked. He rolled to his feet and came up casting.

That answered that. My blade jarred against his stony body and chips went flying. My back stroke hit him again but his protections held and he finished his spell. Flaming arrows flew from his hands and hit me, one in the chest and the other in the hip. Unlike real arrows, my armor didn't stop them. It felt like I'd been pierced by red-hot spikes. I let out a yell and jammed my shoulder into him before he could duck away. He fell again.

I raised my sword overhead and as I did, something warned me. I didn't see or hear my attacker but some instinct made me twist aside so that the stiletto aimed at the chainmail inset under my arm caught in the links instead of piercing through. Gave me a deep scratch though which burned like another hot spike. No doubt the blade had been poisoned. Good thing I had protection against that. I caught movement in the corner of my eye and then he was gone again. Cursed invisible backstabbers—they've made my life miserable on so many occasions.

"Imoen!" I hollered. "Fix my eyes!"

I needed someone to purge this invisibility. I risked a quick scan of the room and I didn't see her anywhere. She enjoyed playing the invisibility game, striking out of nowhere and disappearing again. I'd have to give it a try someday.

Sarevok was engaged with the other stoneskinned mage. Keldorn was engaged with two guards and I thought I heard Jaheira casting a spell. A great crash jerked my head around. Anomen had taken Gromnir's blow on his shield and he staggered back under the force of it. I needed to finish up so I could help him.

I swung my sword in a great arc around me, hoping to hit my unseen friend. He must have been expecting my move and I didn't touch him but at least I knew he wasn't within arm's reach. My mage had scrambled away on his hands and knees. I took a couple of running steps and gave him another whack. His protections still held but he gasped, rolled, and came up to a crouch with a wand in his hand. Before I could react, there was a flash and then a sensation like falling into an icy stream, a chill that struck straight to my bones. I was stunned for a handful of heartbeats. When I gasped for breath the frigid air burned my lungs.

I took a step on suddenly stiff legs and then I saw it—a white plume of breath so close that all I had to do was whirl with my sword gripped hard in my numb fingers. I still didn't see my opponent but I heard him grunt and I saw dark blood blossom on my blade. I could tell by the bite of my blade that I'd done some damage.

Before I could get too happy, the mage raised his wand again. I took a quick step and lunged. Being freakishly big, my lunges carry me quite a distance. The end of my blade knocked the wand from his hand. Unfortunately I also slipped on the polished stone floor. Was there actually ice underfoot or had the wand made me that clumsy? My heel skidded but I recovered my balance enough so I could throw myself forward onto the mage. His huff of breath told me he felt my considerable weight even through his stoneskin. I gave the side of his head a chop with the pommel of my sword and he felt that too. I tried to get up but my boot was tangled in his robe. So I pounded him a couple more times until I broke through his last stoneskin. I'd meant to merely knock him unconscious but a glitter of Bhaal's essence swirled around my hands and then dissipated. I'd killed him.

I still didn't understand why some of us held more power than others. When I'd killed Sarevok in Baldur's Gate, the essence had poured out of him in a blinding pillar. My eyes had burned with the after-image for half a day.

I lurched to my feet. I was hoping for a trail of blood leading me to my stalker but Gromnir's roar distracted me. He broke away from Anomen and ran straight for me. I still felt half-frozen like I was wearing a tabard of ice. I had no shield. Parrying his morning star would do my blade no good. So I dodged. Gromnir's star raked across my back plate in an ear-splitting squeal. I tried to kick his feet out from under him with no success. I might be a hand span or so taller but he outweighed me by a considerable amount. He gave me a straight-armed shove that sent me reeling backwards.

Anomen gave him a blow from behind that spun him around. I attacked as well. Anomen's hammer was tremendously more effective against Gromnir's plate than my sword but I thrust my blade under his arm, hitting heavy resistance. I couldn't tell if I'd hurt him or not. I didn't get much leisure to think about it; a sharp pain at my ribs had me gasping. My invisible friend was back with his stiletto.

"Imoen! I need to see this guy!" I shouted but it was Keldorn, calling upon Torm's power, who dispelled the invisibility. When he realized that I saw him, the assassin's hand went to his pouch, looking for another potion no doubt. I took two long running steps and swung my blade with a lot of vigor. He dodged the main force of the blow but the tip of the blade clipped him, slicing into the back of his hand. The sight of his blood was fine but not as fine as the sight of Sarevok's blade in the moment that it sheared into his head and neck. Blood sprayed; Bhaal's essence followed. He dropped.

"Thanks," I said. That last blow had _hurt_ and I was pretty sure the warm trickle down my side was not sweat. The sudden thud in my back reminded me that there were still a couple of archers in the room. It would take an exceptionally lucky hit to penetrate my plate or so I hoped. Keldorn and Jaheira were holding off the guards at the end of the corridor. More had crowded in at the sound of the fight but a mad riot of alien vegetation had entangled them, thanks to Jaheira's spell. Imoen, now visible and stoneskinned, was chanting a spell and making herself the archers' new target. I ran towards the nearest. My knees ached, probably an effect of the frost wand.

And then Gromnir yelled. I turned in time to see the blow that sent Anomen flying back. He hit the floor and lay unmoving. I was too slow; too slow to prevent Gromnir's second blow at Anomen's undefended head. The morning star rang against his helm. I screamed. Gromnir turned to face me, lips twisted in a snarl. He said something to me but I couldn't hear it. The room had gone still except for the buzzing in my ears. Anomen lay on his face. I couldn't tell if he breathed.

"Jaheira!" I screamed. "Get over here!" She would know what to do—she would heal him—she was the only one of us that could.

"Don't bother calling your healer. Your knight is dead." He laughed. "I've cracked enough skulls in my time to know it when I hear it."

My vision swam; the room went red. There was blood in my eyes but I knew blinking wouldn't clear my sight. Only self-control would help. I fought back the rise of my rage while Gromnir watched me. His chest heaved and I could tell by the state of his armor that he had taken some hard hits. He had to be hurting. I had the feeling he was taunting me to get a breather. I could use one too. None of my injuries were serious but they were starting to add up.

"If you're going to surrender, do it now," I said. "Spare the lives of your men." If I could keep him talking that would give Keldorn and Imoen time to free up Jaheira, who was still dealing with the halberdiers in the hall.

"Surrender?" Gromnir snorted. "Do you think _he_ will ask us to lay down our arms?" He jerked his head in the general direction of the city's wall.

"Yaga-Shura?" I asked. "Why not? What does he want?"

"He swears he will eat the heart of every Bhaalspawn in Saradush."

"What? You mean that literally?"

"He tears them out, still beating, and crams them down his throat before Bhaal can claim what is his."

Now that was just plain disgusting.

"Is he mad?"

"As mad as you or I," Gromnir said. He let out another of his belly laughs. "He says the heart holds Bhaal's essence and he wants it for himself. Did no one tell you Yaga-Shura is your brother?"

The room had quieted. The guards held steady at the door while their wounded crawled away; the archers had their arrows to hand; everyone watched to see if we would work something out. Jaheira hustled to Anomen and knelt beside him. She leaned over him and then sat back on her heels to unbuckle his helm. Surely she wouldn't take such care if he was dead. It was too soon to feel relief but I felt some anyway. I brought my gaze back to Gromnir.

"A Bhaalspawn, is he?" I said. I should have guessed. "Does he scare you that bad? Is that why you're cowering here like a kicked dog?"

"You haven't seen what I've seen. Yaga-Shura is invincible."

"I've killed giants before."

"Not like him, you haven't. He can't be wounded—not by sword or arrow or spell. I've seen him stand before the gates the better part of a day, laughing off everything we could throw at him."

"Some kind of trick or illusion," I scoffed.

"I thought so too, at first. It's Bhaal's blessing, his men say, protecting Yaga-Shura from all harm."

"Bhaal's dead."

"For how long? We all know His time is coming. Looks like Yaga-Shura will be the one who'll bring Him back."

"So you're going to do what? Cower here until the walls come down?"

Gromnir's grin showed off a lot more sharp yellow teeth than I wanted to see.

"That's right. There's no way out now. Samand and his men would expel all of us Bhaalspawn in a heartbeat if that would save the city. Yaga-Shura won't treat with him."

"Why won't he?"

Gromnir shrugged again.

"I think he's having too much fun. This siege isn't a contract to him. He's not trying to be quick about it." His beady eyes were shrewd—and worried. "It's an offering to our Father, I'm thinking."

From behind Gromnir, Sarevok met my eyes. His face was grim.

"When his army enters the city there will be a chance to slip out in all the panic," Gromnir said. "We've been scrying his sappers under the city. When they break through, we can use their own tunnel to escape. That's what we're waiting for."

"That's contemptible. You were hired to help protect these people, not save your own skin at their expense."

"I didn't know I was walking into a trap. Melissan lied. She set me up and I owe her nothing."

"The city needs your help," I said. "If you're not willing to do your job, tell your men to report to Captain Samand. I'm sure he'll find you a nice safe place where you can wait out the siege."

"When the townsfolk find out there's no hidden food supply, they're going to tear someone apart. Who do you think they'll be coming after—the ever helpful Lady Melissan or the mad half-orc Bhaalspawn?"

"I can protect you from them." However I didn't know what punishment Captain Samand and the remaining city leadership might deem appropriate and my voice may have held that uncertainty. Gromnir snorted.

"I'll take my chances here. You could work with me. I could take you on as an officer." He looked around at his dead and gave another of those toothy grins although there was no amusement in his eyes. "You seem apt enough."

I shook my head. Did he think my paladin would let me join up with an oath-breaker, even if I wanted to?

"Too bad," he said and that was all the warning he gave me before he attacked.

He was on me hard and furious. He had recovered his strength but so had I. As I dodged and twisted away from him, I could see his frustration grow. I caught one of his blows low on my blade. If my sword had been ordinary steel, it probably would have snapped in my hands. As it was, he nearly disarmed me. Before I could recover, Sarevok ran in behind Gromnir and slammed into him hard enough to knock him to one knee.

Gromnir bounded back up and came at me. He had to be wearing down but I couldn't tell it. I gave him a blow on the helm that snapped his head back hard. When he lifted his arm I saw a wide gap between the front and back plates. Maybe a hinge or strap had broken in his fight with Anomen or maybe he hadn't done it up properly in the first place.

Gromnir's eyes met mine, as sometimes happens in even the most frantic combat. Could I have been smiling? I didn't think so but he must have read my new certainty for he growled like a beast and came at me harder than ever. I felt it when he drew upon Bhaal's power, like a fevered hand on the back of my neck. His lips pulled back; there was foam on his tusks; his swings became wilder but very, very powerful. I'd seen this battle madness in others. If he hit me, I'd be down like Anomen. He didn't scare me though. Bhaal's blood moved in him but it wouldn't be enough for I could feel the god stirring within myself as well.

I didn't call it; it was just there. My heart sped up. New strength and energy filled me. The pain from the wound in my side faded. I wished I could say the sensations of Bhaal's presence within me were alien and unwelcome.

They were neither.

I'd been reacting to Gromnir's attack; now I began to harry him, waiting for him to expose that gap to my blade. And then Sarevok was beside me, towering over us both. He reached across me to block Gromnir's blow and his sudden appearance startled and distracted me. I jumped back. If I'd needed the help, I might have been grateful.

"Back off," I said. "He's mine."

"Take him then," Sarevok snapped back. "Stop playing."

**Take him**. The words echoed through my mind in the god's voice. I shuddered as Bhaal's energy roiled within me. Sarevok's eyes were burning pits. Bhaal had stripped him of His power on his death but there was power in him now. Surely this was more than the spark I had given him for I could feel it and I was not sensitive.

Gromnir had backed away, eyeing us both. He took shocking advantage of my distraction and punched me in the jaw. His fist was huge and it hurt a lot. I find closed helms too stifling to endure but there were times when I wished I wore one—like when I get hit in the face. Before I could recover, Gromnir hit me again. My fury exploded into something deadlier. Heat flashed as if some malevolent demon had shoveled hot embers into my helm. I knew what this meant. The worst was about to happen and there was nothing I could do.

_Not now, not now! _

Gromnir froze. His lips were still pulled back in a snarl but I could feel the fear on him. I could smell it. His little round eyes were black, all pupil.

"Your face!" he gasped.

The change had begun. The Slayer was coming. My hands burned and I dropped my sword. My gauntlets were gone, absorbed by the transformation that raged through me like wildfire on a dry grassy plain. One huge clawed hand grabbed Gromnir's shoulder. The other drove into the gap in his armor. With a twist of the wrist, the gap widened. The Slayer's claws dug into the padding beneath it and then tore into Gromnir's flesh. He jerked but he did not fight the Slayer. I think he was actually paralyzed with fear. When he fell, I followed him down. My face came close to his and the Slayer's great jaws worked.

I turned my head before I could rip his face away and when I did, I saw Sarevok standing over me. He, too, was frozen—not in fear, but in awe. He stared at the Slayer with fascinated eyes. By all the mercies of the gods, was that _envy_ I saw?

I wanted to kill him for that.

"Get out!" I growled through a mouth shaped for murder, not speech. The change was incomplete but the pain of it seared through me like dragon's breath. I looked up. The others, friend or foe, stood in a horrified tableau. "I will kill you all. I can't control it."

Gromnir's head lolled back. The Slayer's hand, already buried to the wrist, was working its way to his vitals. Blood poured out.

"You can control this," Sarevok said. I made an angry sound and shook my head. I was gouging a man's heart out with my bare hands. Did this look like control? "I can help you," he said.

Despite my warning, no one had left. Jaheira crouched by Anomen as if she could shield him with her body. She couldn't, not from the Slayer. Imoen's face was chalky. She had moved to the doorway to stand by Keldorn but that would not be far enough. The Slayer could run down a deer.

"Get them out now!"

The Slayer jammed its hand deeper into Gromnir's meat. He jerked but he still didn't fight—not even when the claws reached his heart, not even when the claws sliced into it. He was dying and then he was dead.

Bhaal's essence flowed out of him in a sparkling cloud. I could feel the power flow by my face. I breathed it in. I felt a moment's satiation but then I—it—wanted more. I kept my head down so the Slayer couldn't look for its next prey. I tried to close my eyes but the Slayer had no eyelids.

A hand on my shoulder rocked me back on my heels. Sarevok crouched beside me and his hands closed around the Slayer's wrists. He had taken his gloves off. I wondered how he could bear the touch of the scaly flesh, which now extended to my elbows.

"You cannot control this change by fighting it," he said in my ear. "It is a part of you." I shook my head.

"No," I said. "Not me. Bhaal."

"No. You are the god's avatar but you are not Bhaal. This power is yours to command."

"I can't."

"Keeta, you must." His eyes bored into mine. His face was so close. How could he have no fear of my monstrous form? Melissan had called Gromnir mad, but his reaction to the Slayer had been sane. Sarevok was the madman here and his madness was contagious. For when his hands ran up the Slayer's forearms in what was close to a caress, the heat cooled; the pain faded.

_Help me._ I couldn't hear my own words but his grip tightened.

"While you live, Bhaal cannot wrest this power from you. It is yours."

I shook my head. The Slayer could only be appeased by slaughter. When it had come to me before, I'd had no choice—I'd struck out at all around me. To control this power, I must accept it. To accept this power, I must become Bhaal's servant.

I could not. I would rather die, yet even my death would serve Bhaal.

"It doesn't have to be that way," Sarevok said. Had he read my thoughts on the Slayer's alien face? Did he already know me so well? I shifted forward so that I was on my knees, as he knelt facing me.

_Help me_.

He put one large hand against my—the Slayer's—face. What happened next was hard to describe. The Slayer raged and burned within me, ready to burst through my skin. Sarevok reached out to that wild energy and—I don't know what happened. Did he tame it? Did he pull it into himself? All I know is that I was losing myself and then—I wasn't. Gold swirled in Sarevok's eyes. His hand moved from my face to my shoulder, steadying me when I swayed forward. He steadied me but I could feel the tremor in his hands. There was sweat on his forehead and upper lip.

"Oh, gods," I whispered.

"Oh, gods, indeed. Can you feel their attention upon us?" The excitement in his deep voice was not catching; it filled me with dread. "Whether Bhaal returns or a new god is born, the power shifts and they know it. The lever teeters on its fulcrum and even the gods are affected."

Our heads both turned at the shriek from the doorway. Lady Melissan stood there, flanked by Captain Samand. A dozen of his men crowded the hall behind them. Her hands rose to her face in dismay. For a moment I thought the Slayer had made her scream but a quick glance showed me the steel of my gauntlets, not the claws of the Slayer. Presumably my face was back to normal as well.

Lady Melissan stared at the puddle of blood seeping from Gromnir's corpse.

"The general is dead!"

I creaked to my feet. Somehow my armor had tripled in weight.

"Yes," I said. "We tried to talk but he forced the fight upon us." I looked around. Gromnir's men must have run off when the Slayer came. No doubt Samand could handle the task of rounding them up, if he felt the need to do so.

"I feared this would happen," she said but my attention was on Jaheira, who hadn't left Anomen's side. The slight nod she gave me was cautious but I was used to her caution. Anomen would live.

Sarevok still knelt before me. His position might have appeared submissive but his eyes were confident. He took the hand I offered. When I pulled him to his feet, his fingers clasped mine and held them until I looked up into his face. Sarevok's knowing smile should have chilled me. Perhaps it did. But I was growing accustomed to choosing between evils and this choice was clear. Sarevok had banished the Slayer. There could be no question of sending him away now and we both knew it.


	7. Change in Leadership

**Ch. 7… Change in Leadership **

I would have liked to sit down and have a quiet think about what had just happened but there was too much to do. Fortunately Melissan, over her shock at the sight of Gromnir's body, moved smoothly into command. While she spoke to Captain Samand, I crouched beside Anomen. I fumbled off my gauntlets so I could take off his. I rubbed his hands between mine. His hands were cold and limp, like those of a dead man. A shiver ran through me.

"I don't want him moved," Jaheira said. She had that little furrow between her eyebrows that she gets when she's worried. Anomen hadn't stirred since Gromnir had felled him. His face was gray and his breathing sounded strange, with long pauses between each breath, as if his body had forgotten what to do. But I didn't like the thought of leaving him on the hard stone floor of the palace hall. Too open, too noisy, and it wasn't exactly a defensible location.

"Maybe we can find some blankets to make him more comfortable," I said. Could we screen the area off? I wasn't coming up with much in the way of ideas. It would help if I knew how long Anomen was likely to be incapacitated. Since I've yet to get a straight answer to that kind of question, I didn't bother asking.

Melissan approached and Captain Samand followed.

"Have a couple of your men run to the west wing to fetch bedding for the knight," she told him. "And please send a message to Sister Farielle that we have need of her healers." Samand took these orders without a blink.

"We will need a guard set on the palace until Il-Khan's men have been informed of the change in leadership," she continued. She tapped a long tapered finger against her chin. "It might be best to keep the news of the general's death quiet for now."

Samand nodded.

"No need to cause a commotion in the city before we've dealt with his troops," he said. "We'll get them under control quick enough. If they wish to draw rations, they'll cooperate." He looked down at Gromnir's body and then met my eyes. "Although the general's arms and armor are yours now by right of combat, I'd like leave to borrow his helm, in case any of his men need proof of his death."

"Take it," I said, dragging my avaricious eyes away from Gromnir's morning star. I was relieved he didn't want to display the general's head on a pole. Keldorn really hated that sort of barbarism. I glanced at the paladin. He gave me a reassuring look and I knew he would watch over Anomen.

Captain Samand left after commanding a couple of his guards to drag the bodies away. I was glad that everyone seemed to know what to do. I wanted to curl up somewhere and stare at the wall until my brain started working again.

"We have much to discuss," Melissan told me. Her eyes were wide and earnest. "But you have been wounded. Let us tend to you first."

She led me to a chamber off the throne room and I didn't protest. I felt like I ought to be doing something useful but I didn't know what. I didn't seem to be able to string two coherent thoughts together. A dim part of my dim brain realized that this was not my normal state after a 'victory'. I wondered if I'd been hurt worse than I thought.

I rarely feel much pain during the excitement of a fight but my body was beginning to send me urgent little messages that all was not well. My jaw hurt and I had a couple of loose teeth, which I couldn't resist probing with my tongue over and over. Although my looks aren't much to get excited about, losing a tooth wouldn't improve them. Besides, the magic involved in setting a tooth back in one's mouth is pretty damned painful.

The elegant room was arranged for small intimate meetings, with a sofa and a couple of thick-cushioned chairs that invited hibernation. I banged into a low table and chipped a chunk of wood from the corner of what was no doubt a priceless antique. I imagined I'd also end up dripping blood on the gorgeous carpets before I was done. Sometimes I feel like a walking disaster. In a small side room there was a privy, a sink with a gnomish-looking faucet, and a mirror as big as a shield. Imoen would love it.

I unbuckled my helmet and dropped it behind the couch. Since Melissan seemed so determined to be helpful, I asked her to get Anomen's pack, which held the bulk of our healing supplies. Sarevok's bulky frame blocked the doorway and she gave him an irritated look as she squeezed past.

"Why don't you send your squire to fetch your gear?" she asked.

"I need him to tend to my armor." I managed to suppress my grin until she left. My 'squire' looked about as pleased as I would have expected by his new rank. "Are you hurt?" I asked. He shook his head. "Get me out of this then." I rapped my knuckles on my breastplate.

With my gauntlets off, I could have helped but it was easier to stand still and let him work the armor off me. I was tired. Bone tired. I've seen it in others, that deep fatigue that comes after killing a man. Keldorn had it many times—a sad regret that pulled the energy out of him and sank his spirits.

Me, it varied. More often than not I was energized after a fight but not today. I sighed. Sarevok looked up from the strap he was loosening at my back. I had questions but I didn't want to ask them, not when Melissan would return any moment. Besides I wanted out of my hot armor. I was wet with sweat and yet at the same time I felt that numbing cold you get with exhaustion.

I thought it had something to do with getting dragged back from the precipice that was the Slayer.

It felt strange to have Sarevok tend to me but I stood passive, raising my arms and turning as needed. He was quite familiar with the intricacies of plate armor and freed me with no fumbling or uncertainty.

At last I was down to my arming coat. The stiletto had stabbed me in the meaty area between my ribs and hip and had gone in pretty deep. The side of my padded coat was damp. Sarevok's hands were there before mine, to loosen the ties and help me out of the tight-fitting coat so we could take a look at the damage. His movements were matter-of-fact, like any warrior assisting his comrade. His cool efficiency almost made me angry.

Anomen should have been here. We would have gone over the fight—what worked, what didn't, what we could do better next time. He would have healed my injuries and he would have seen that I needed comfort. He would have given it to me.

Instead I had the silent, efficient, watchful Sarevok. Having him so close should have made me nervous. Despite any urging of common sense, I felt safe with him. Anomen wouldn't like us being alone together and although his reasons made sense, as did Imoen's concerns, I knew they both were wrong. Sarevok wouldn't harm me. I didn't know what he wanted or expected from me but I knew he wouldn't harm me.

I gave an uncomfortable laugh.

"If you're going to stand in as my squire, I'll expect you to wash the blood out of my coat and sharpen my blade as well."

Sarevok frowned but not at my weak quip. He held my coat to his face and sniffed the slashed padding.

"Let me assure you that you don't smell like a nosegay either," I said, uneasy. I'd guess few warriors are unfamiliar with the reek of a cut bowel. Definitely not an odor you want to smell on yourself. I took a couple of deep breaths through my nose but all I picked up was sweat and blood.

His frown deepened. His chain shirt gave a metallic rustle as he knelt and peeled up my bloody undershirt to sniff at the wound in my side.

"Hold this out of the way," he said. I tucked the edge of the shirt beneath my breasts. I couldn't see much because his head was in the way but I thought most of the blood had come from the scrape across my ribs, not from the more dangerous puncture.

"If my guts are leaking, I don't want to know until the healer gets here."

"It is poison I smell."

"I almost forgot. That cursed assassin had dipped his blade in something nasty," I said. "Luckily I'm protected."

A hole in my gut would be a problem. Poison, I could handle. As long as I wore the Ring of Gaxx, no poison could harm me. Sarevok scrutinized the wounds as if he didn't believe my airy reassurance.

When he touched me, I couldn't help but flinch.

"Does that hurt?"

"No."

Actually, it did but it wasn't the pain that bothered me—it was my acute awareness of his bare fingers on my bare skin. Both his hands grasped my waist before I could squirm away. One side was wet with my blood; the other hot and dry. He leaned in so close that I felt his breath against my belly. His thumb brushed my skin below the puncture and although I'm not particularly ticklish, I gasped and jerked. He did nothing to provoke the sudden flush that heated my face but it was there. When he met my eyes, I felt like an awkward girl alone with a man for the first time.

"I haven't been poisoned."

I pushed his hands away and stepped back. As he rose to his considerable height, I was pretty sure I saw a smirk on his face but that may have been my overheated imagination.

"You've lost a fair amount of blood."

He was right about that. I was afraid if I didn't sit down soon I was going to fall down.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"And what would you have me tell you?"

My head was too thick to try to pick through any layers of double meaning in his voice.

"I don't understand you at all."

He fetched me a mug of water from the gnomish faucet. I sat on the edge of the couch and hoped I wouldn't ruin the rich fabric. The water was tepid and flat, but I drank it down in a few long gulps. Sarevok refilled my mug and stood over me while I sipped it.

"If you have a question, ask it. We must speak of what happened."

I wasn't ready to talk about the Slayer despite his eagerness to do so. I was relieved and reprieved when Melissan bustled into the room. She had Anomen's pack pulling down her shoulder and Sister Farielle following behind. Having already done what she could for Anomen, the cleric clucked over me. Between them, they pushed Sarevok most of the way out of the room so they could clean and heal my injuries. Sister Farielle fixed my jaw, my side, and even the magic arrow wounds I'd almost forgotten.

Having dealt with Waukeen's clergy before, I dug through Anomen's pack for his purse so I could pay for her aid. She waved me aside. A priestess of Waukeen turning down coin? That had to be a first.

"Let us plan our next actions," Melissan said once the cleric left. "With General Gromnir's obstructions at an end, we can better prepare the city for the siege."

Sarevok had drifted back into the room. Melissan gave me a questioning look when I gestured him to sit beside me on the couch but she took the chair across me. She grasped the arms of the chair. Her body was tense with urgency.

"What can we do about Yaga-Shura?" I asked. "Gromnir claimed he is invincible."

"That appears to be true."

So Gromnir hadn't lied. But what did that mean? After all, even a god could die.

"What are your plans then?" I asked. "Will Tethyr's queen send troops to the city's aid?"

"We sent out messengers when the giants first approached the city. We have heard nothing. We do not know if they made it to Darromar or if they were all captured by Yaga-Shura's scouts."

"Is there some way to evacuate the city? The walls won't hold forever and Gromnir said that sappers are tunneling under them."

"No, the walls won't hold forever. That is why we need your help." I raised my brows. "I saw you enter the city. The magic you used was strong enough to break through the seals that hold the rest of us within. You can leave where the rest of us cannot."

"Perhaps."

Although the portal in the pocket plane brought us here, we had not tested it to see if it would take us to another location. I looked at Sarevok, who gave me a slight nod. Unless my destiny was to remain trapped in Saradush until Yaga-Shura broke through, the portal would take me elsewhere. Surely the Solar hadn't sent me here so the giant could kill me.

"Did Gromnir tell you that Yaga-Shura is a Bhaalspawn?" Melissan asked. "He was not born invulnerable; he acquired this power recently. If you can learn his secret then perhaps you can undo it."

"How am I to learn his secret?"

"Yaga-Shura was raised in an old temple of Bhaal deep within the Forest of Mir. He has also built a stronghold in the Marching Mountains. Surely in one of those places his secret can be discovered." She must have seen the skepticism on my face for she leaned towards me and put her hand on my knee.

"Yaga-Shura will not be content with killing the Bhaalspawn in Saradush. He came for them but you—you are much bigger game. You are powerful, Keeta, much more so than the unfortunate Bhaalspawn under my protection. He will hunt you and take you, if he can. Even if you care nothing for the fate of Saradush, you must understand that your own life is at stake as well. His mages will scry this area searching for you and they will find you. You must move quickly."

"Do you intend to use Keeta as bait, to draw Yaga-Shura away from Saradush?"

Melissan gave Sarevok a startled look.

"I had not thought of that." She tapped her chin a moment. "No," she said. "I do not think that will serve. He will not abandon his siege when he is so close to victory. Destroying Yaga-Shura is the key to saving Saradush. His men follow him fanatically, believing he is to be the next Lord of Murder. Should he fall in battle—particularly, should he fall by _your_ hand, Keeta—his army will scatter. You must learn how to lift his invulnerability. There is nothing else you can do for Saradush."

"This doesn't sound like a particularly easy task. Do you think we have time?"

"I do not know how long the city can hold out. But do we have any choice?"

I didn't know. As if I'd agreed, Melissan said she'd have maps copied out for me. She also said she'd arranged for us to stay in the palace as long as we liked; she'd taken the liberty of sending to the inn for our belongings. Presumably she'd taken care of the bill as well, just like she'd paid off Sister Farielle. I raised my brows.

"I apologize if my actions seem intrusive," she said. "But I cannot stress enough the urgency of this mission. It is unfortunate that your knight was wounded or I would ask you to leave immediately. I don't suppose—"

"We will not leave him," I said, as I hovered between irritation and astonishment.

"I understand. Sister Farielle assures me he will recover quickly however." She stood. "General Gromnir's death will be a boon to the city but there is much to be done. I must go. Captain Samand has agreed to help you in any way possible."

The door closed behind her.

"At what point did you agree we would take our orders from that woman?" Sarevok asked.

"You find her pushy, do you?" She was certainly used to giving orders and having them obeyed. In fact, she reminded me a little of my 'squire'. No wonder he found her abrasive. "Do you disagree then? I thought you'd be eager to take on Yaga-Shura."

"We have too little information." He stared down at his hands, which were clasped around his knee. "How could this Bhaalspawn spring out of nowhere—a fire giant, mind you, and with such power—and yet I know nothing of him? When I think of all the resources I dedicated to tracking down our kin—it frustrates me, Keeta. What else have I missed?"

"Well, obviously he was kept hidden in this forest Melissan told us about."

"_You_ were kept hidden by Harpers and yet I sniffed you out easily enough. Besides, I know of this temple. My agents told me it had been destroyed. Now I will never know—did they deceive me or were they themselves deceived?"

"It's never fun to find out you don't know as much as you thought you did," I said. I saw his eyes narrow as he teetered on the verge of anger. Then he laughed. When his face relaxed, it was like his entire nature changed. He leaned back on the couch and turned his head to look at me.

"No, it is not."

* * *

A boot in my back nudged me awake. The throne room floor was hard and cold beneath me. I rolled over in my tangle of blankets, stupid with sleep, and blinked up at Sarevok's dark figure. His eyes glittered in the dim light of the night lamp.

"Your knight stirs," he said.

It had to be very late for Keldorn had the second watch and Sarevok the third. The others slept in the meeting room but I had thrown down my blankets next to Anomen. I smiled and crawled out of my bed roll. Anomen turned from side to side as if uncomfortable. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't seem aware of my approach but when I touched the back of his hand, his fingers curled to clutch mine. His head turned towards me.

He stared but I wasn't sure he saw me. As the silence dragged on, I could feel the smile slide off my face. My heart began to thud in formless fear. Didn't he know me?

"Anomen?" I whispered. His face twisted in grief at the sound of my voice. Were there tears in his eyes? "What is wrong?"

I leaned over him. His hand touched my arm and then my face. With a sob of breath, he pulled me down beside him. He pressed his face against my shoulder. His continued silence was alarming but when he finally spoke, his words frightened me more.

"Please, my Lord, do not ask this of me." His words were muffled and he clutched me so tightly that I could not see his face. I rubbed his side. "I cannot—no, I cannot bear this."

"Wake up, Anomen. You're dreaming."

"Helm, please. Be merciful, my Lord."

The despair in his voice almost broke my heart. They say you shouldn't wake a dreamer but I grabbed his shoulder and gave him a good hard shake. He let me go and lay back in his blankets. I stroked his hair and it was wet with sweat. As I leaned across his body, I could feel his heart pounding. Mine was pounding too.

"It's just a bad dream," I murmured. "Nothing but a bad dream. Wake up and it will go away."

"Don't leave me."

"I won't."

He shuddered and lay still. I continued to stroke his hair. Eventually his breathing slowed and his heart slowed as well. I thought he would go back to sleep but he slid his arm up until it was around my back.

"Where are we?"

"We're in the throne room of the palace." He blinked at me. "In Saradush," I prompted. Sometimes your memory goes strange after a head wound.

"The throne room. Why are we here?"

"You were injured. Do you remember?"

He blinked again.

"Gromnir Il-Khan." He let out a deeper breath, almost a sigh. "Did you kill him?"

"Yes."

"Ah."

"He cracked your skull. Jaheira said you shouldn't be moved so we set up camp here."

"Anyone else hurt?" His fingers brushed my jaw. There was no pain now but no doubt I had a lovely bruise.

"Nothing much," I said. "Not like you. You scared me bad, love. I thought I'd lost you." I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his temple.

He hesitated for so long that I thought he might have fallen back asleep. When he did speak, I had to strain to hear his words.

"You did lose me."

It was my turn to be silent.

"I died."

"You died?" This did not match Jaheira's account. Bringing a person back to life wasn't exactly a trivial little spell you snapped out in the middle of a fight. And then forgot about. "You didn't die, Anomen. Why would you say that?"

"Helm spoke to me." Anomen closed his eyes. "He told me a terrible danger lies ahead. He warned me—I must do my duty no matter what the cost. And He said—" He let out a long shuddering sigh. Then he pressed his lips together and in a slight move that I might have missed had I not been watching so closely, turned his face away from me.

My first thought was that Helm had warned him of my death. Perhaps Yaga-Shura was destined to eat my heart after all. We both knew I could not be resurrected. I would not want that even if it was possible. Then I had a worse thought. I remembered Sarevok's words about the gods, when he brought me back from the brink of the change.

_Can you feel their attention upon us?_ _Whether Bhaal returns or a new god is born, the power shifts and they know it._

Perhaps if I gained control of the Slayer, Helm would find me an unacceptable companion for his priest. Or perhaps if I _didn't_ learn to control it, he would find me an abomination. I knew the Order of the Radiant Heart had concerns about Anomen's association with a Bhaalspawn and it made sense that his god would as well.

"Anomen," I whispered. "Something happened today." But before I could tell him of Sarevok's intervention with the Slayer, I reconsidered. Would knowing this ease him or add to his concern? What if I was unable to learn what Sarevok could teach me? Wouldn't it be better to wait until I understood more myself?

"What?"

The drowsiness in his voice decided me.

"I—realized how much I love you."

"My love," he murmured.

* * *

"You want me to lie to Anomen? I can't believe the words coming out of your mouth." Imoen gave me a cynical look and made an elaborate pretense of looking around. Since we were huddled in one of the unused storerooms, there wasn't much to see. "Did Sarevok put you up to this?"

"I didn't say _lie_ to him. Just don't bring up what happened with Il-Khan."

"Humph. And are you going to ask Keldorn to lie to him too? I'd like to be there if you do. Maybe he'll smite you."

"Would you stop saying the word 'lie'? Keeping your mouth shut is not lying."

"Yeah, right. I'm sure Sarevok will keep all your little secrets but what makes you think Keldorn won't bring it up? Or Jaheira? They were there too, you know."

"Yes but they didn't see the change, not really. You're the one who could feel the Slayer. They didn't understand what happened."

"_I_ didn't understand what happened."

"Me either," I said frankly. "And that's why I don't want to worry Anomen about it yet. He's going through a hard time just now."

The look Imoen gave me made me feel uncomfortable. She saw too much sometimes.

"And what am I supposed to do if he asks?" Her voice had softened a little.

"Tell him the truth."

He wouldn't ask. He'd been careful not to ask (or invite) any questions at all. Anomen, who had always used me as a sounding board, even for matters of faith, had suddenly discovered reticence. I had never seen him so silent and withdrawn and that worried me more than I wanted Imoen to know.


	8. An Experiment

**Ch. 8…An Experiment**

"I hope I haven't forgotten how to do this."

We'd gathered in the meeting room of the palace. Jaheira closed the door so the guards couldn't see me teleport us out. Everyone was waiting for me to do my trick and I felt self-conscious. Sarevok gave me an irritated glance.

"You haven't."

He was right, of course. I could feel the portal magic thrumming beneath my skin when I thought of the key that had been placed within my mind. But it made me nervous. I hadn't known about the wards that held the city captive when I brought us to Saradush but I knew about them now. The city mages had assured Imoen that trying to teleport across the wards would lead to a messy death. _You'll splash your brains out,_ Lazarus had said, eyes gleaming with ghoulishness.

Oh, well. Maybe that would be an improvement. I shut my eyes and invoked the key. And I opened my eyes to the Abyss. No one seemed surprised by our survival so I kept my mouth shut.

A shrieking blur barreled straight towards me. I flinched and drew my dagger but it pulled up right before collision. Cespenar.

"You're back! Master has been gone so long!" The creature flew around me in dizzying circles, pelting me with questions and not waiting for answers. I cut into his babble.

"We're back but not for long," I said. "Show me to the kitchen. I have some food supplies to unload and then we need to use the portal again.

"The kitchen?" Cespenar asked in a tone that made my request sound exotic.

"Don't we have one?"

The imp bobbed up and down and squeaked something I couldn't understand. I guess we didn't. Then how did he prepare the meals—never mind. I didn't want to know. I'd been uncomfortable taking food from Saradush when there was already such a shortage, but Melissan had insisted we do so. _Drawing upon the palace stores won't make any difference to the city and will make a huge difference to you,_ she had said. She was right, I supposed—having to take time to hunt would slow us down—but I remembered the thin waifs who lurked in the alley behind the Tankard Tree and would do just about anything for a scrap of food.

Imoen followed me to the dining room, and while I pulled the supplies out of my bag of holding, she talked quietly to Cespenar. More schemes for the portal plane, from what I could overhear. I was glad one of us was amusing herself.

We were already in our traveling clothes, and all we did to prepare was to dump the gear we didn't want to carry. The idea was that we would return to the pocket plane each evening to rest. I didn't like it but it was a good way to avoid the scrying wizards that Melissan had warned us about. And we would travel quicker with light loads, since we had no horses or pack beasts.

Jaheira and I wore leather tunics. Imoen wore a shirt and pants in uncharacteristically dull colors. Anomen and Sarevok had their chain shirts and Keldorn wore a shabby leather vest that looked old enough to have been handed down from his grandsire. Imoen had been itching to throw it out since the first time she saw it but Keldorn claimed it was so light and comfortable that he felt like a young man when he wore it. Knowing the weight of his plate (which _had_ been handed down from his grandsire) I could understand. In my tunic, I felt light-footed as a deer.

Cespenar wanted to show off the changes he'd made to the pocket plane but I told him it would have to wait. I wanted to experiment with the portal. If it returned us right back to Saradush, well, the sooner we knew that the better. When I questioned the imp about how the portal worked, he got all vague and twittery. Could it take me somewhere I'd never been? Well, obviously it could, since it took me to Saradush. So the real question was: what in Nine Hells was my destiny, at least as far as the portal was concerned?

Sarevok cautioned against using an invisibility spell. He said the teleportation was likely to be confusing enough without adding any complications and he was probably right. Feeling a bit of an idiot as we gathered near the portal, I whispered "Take us to the forest of Mir" and I activated the key magic.

Wind ruffled my hair. We were out of Saradush but we weren't in any kind of forest, although the dark line on the horizon before us could be trees. We were on top of a hill overlooking farmland. After the gloom of the Abyss, the bright sun dazzled me.

"Over there," Jaheira said. "The walls of Saradush." She had good eyes. What I saw looked like little more than a smudge against a hill. "We're east of the city," she said. "It's morning still. We've lost no time in the portal." That was something I'd been wondering about—did time behave differently in the pocket plane. "We should continue east for now," she continued. "I will scout ahead." She shapeshifted into a wolf. She gave me one last long look, as if to determine that I'd be capable of finding east on a sunny day, and then she loped off.

Apparently she found nothing she considered of note until late that afternoon. She was in her normal shape when she rejoined us. Her face, often expressionless, was grim.

"What is it?" I asked. "Yaga-Shura's soldiers?"

"I've seen no soldiers, only their handiwork. Every farm I've seen has been destroyed. The farmers' families lie dead, left to rot where they fell. Livestock gone, the barns emptied of foodstuff, the houses ransacked and sometimes burned. These men come as despoilers, Keeta. This destruction is senseless. It is the madness of Bhaal, and Yaga-Shura has infected his men with it."

Keldorn put his hand on her arm. I expected her to shrug it off but she did not.

"Even the children were killed," she said.

"We will bring Yaga-Shura to justice," he said.

"Will we? What would justice look like?" Her voice crackled with anger. "Will the giant's death bring justice to the blameless ones who were slaughtered? Will Yaga-Shura's death do anything but advance the prophecy and the plans of his Father? What good will justice do anyone, Keldorn, if there even is such a thing?"

"Justice can prevent more tragedy," he said. "Or so is our hope. As mortals, there is little more we can do."

"It is not enough." Jaheira shook her head as if shaking off his words or her own thoughts. She looked off into the distance. "We should continue east, perhaps working our way a bit to the north. I will return before dusk. I assume you still want to return to the Abyss?"

"Yes," I said. Imoen did not know any spells to protect us from the scrying of hostile wizards, so it seemed best to keep on the move and use the pocket place as our hiding hole.

We traveled like that for several days. Each morning the portal returned us to the place we'd left the afternoon before. For traveling on foot, we made good time—the advantages of traveling lightly were tremendous.

Jaheira picked our path and chivied us along at as brutal a pace as she thought we could stand. She acted like she couldn't get out of these lands fast enough. Come bedtime, I should have been exhausted. The others were. We ate, talked a bit and did a few chores. Then everyone drifted off to their bedrooms. Cespenar had conjured up furniture. We had beds and chairs, dressers and tables. We had a bathing area that had to be seen to be believed. We were in a safe place where no one (except for the Solar, as far as I knew) could reach us. We should have slept soundly and well.

Each night, despite the ache in my legs, I could scarcely settle to bed. When I lay down, I tossed and turned. Anomen, though he did not complain of sleeplessness, slept more lightly than usual. After the first night, when I knew I woke him several times, I delayed going to bed as long as possible so he could get in some uninterrupted sleep.

And where normally Anomen might have questioned me or offered a certain earthy cure for insomnia, he was silent. In fact, I began to suspect he felt relief at my absences from our bed. As I started coming to bed later and later, Anomen started rising earlier and earlier, spending time, I learned, at the little shrine he and Keldorn had made in an alcove near the common room. He was troubled—that much was plain—and whether it was due to his near-death experience (for I refused to believe that he had actually died) or some other cause, I was almost afraid to ask.

Well, I _was_ afraid to ask. So I didn't. I'd never had to force a confidence from Anomen before and I was afraid to try. I was afraid I'd fail and then where would we be? I wasn't the only one to notice Anomen's uneasiness. From time to time I would see Keldorn's eye upon him and I saw that little crease of concern on his forehead. But if he spoke to him, it wasn't in my hearing.

So I spent my evenings in my new training room. Gromnir's morning star felt cool and comfortable in my hand. I hadn't even had to modify the grip. Its spikes glittered in the diffused light from the glowing patches that grew like fungus on the walls. Cespenar had also made me a couple of practice dummies out of what appeared to be demon flesh, which regenerated as fast as I could hit it. Imoen had asked if he could create a golem out of this material but Cespenar had said not.

Thank the gods. For a girl from sheltered Candlekeep, Imoen came up with the most ghoulish ideas.

The dummy didn't bleed but it was beginning to show dark spots like bruises from my repeated hammering. Sarevok had assured me my sleeplessness was normal, particularly when we were in the Abyss, with its chaotic energies pulsing through me. He said he had never needed much sleep himself although his new flesh apparently needed more rest than his original body.

I'd been keeping an eye on the doorway, so I wasn't surprised when he padded in, barefoot and in the same kind of loose fitting linen undershirt and breeches that most of us wore as night clothes. I was dressed the same. I didn't like sneaking around Anomen's back but I knew he wouldn't approve of any of this—the lessons, being alone with Sarevok, and this new experiment. He'd yell. And at this point, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. I'd rather get yelled at than continue to endure this uneasy silence.

Sarevok looked more relaxed and comfortable than I would have expected, but what was with the bucket? It swung from his hand, a plain prosaic oak bucket. I'd seen its like in a hundred farmyards but what was it doing here? I peeped inside. There were two bottles and the full one looked like whiskey. "You didn't tell me we were going to party. If I'd known, I'd have dressed up."

"We are not here for fun." But his lip quirked. "We are here for enlightenment."

"Enlightenment? Ugh. I'd rather get drunk." He didn't reply. "If Anomen knew what we were doing, he'd have a fit."

"Then by all means, run tell him."

Bristling at his flat animosity, I asked, "What do you have against Anomen?"

"As a man, nothing. Since I believe the Knights of the Radiant Heart are hand-selected for pompous sanctimoniousness I have become accustomed. As your choice of lover—"

"What?"

"You are a Bhaalspawn. He is a cleric."

"He doesn't care about the Bhaalspawn business." Sarevok lifted his eyebrows. "He doesn't! And that cleric that has saved your butt plenty of times. He's saved mine more times than I can count."

"A cleric will always put his love for his god over his love for you. It can be no other way. That is how they are made."

I bit off my words of protest. His lover Tamoko had been a cleric. But he replied as if I'd spoken.

"A true cleric is addicted to his god, and no other can fill that gnawing need. And the gods are jealous. The more power they give, the closer they hold their priests." A beat. "Your Anomen—he is much favored by Helm."

"Stop it!"

Sarevok shrugged. "Sit," he said.

I sat. The floor was springier and more yielding than the rock it resembled. Nothing here was exactly real, or not in the sense that I was used to things being real, according to Cespenar. Every time he tried to explain it, I got a pounding headache. Even the portal wasn't really a portal, he said. Maybe Imoen understood—the two of them chattered together all the time—but me, I just shoved it all under 'incomprehensible god stuff' and tried not to think about it.

He put the bucket between us. Inside was an old wine bottle, now a quarter full of a dark murky liquid I didn't think was wine, a smaller whiskey bottle (full) and a small vellum packet. The packet held a scant handful of dried mushrooms. Yesterday we'd rescued a caravan from one of Yaga-Shura's patrols. They were smugglers headed towards Amkethran, or so Sarevok claimed. He said they'd offered him black lotus. He'd bought the mushrooms instead.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Umber Caps won't harm you. Whether you receive an insight—" He shrugged again.

I couldn't believe I'd agreed to try this. He had sworn the mushrooms weren't toxic or addictive. With my Ring of Gaxx, I wasn't too worried. He had also sworn the effects would wear off before morning. If he was wrong, well, I didn't want to think about what would happen if I showed up to breakfast in an altered state. As if he was reading my thoughts, I saw Sarevok frown at the ring on my hand.

"Do you never take that ring off, even to sleep?" he asked.

"Why should I?" I frowned back. "Besides, it doesn't like to come off my hand."

"See if you can't persuade it to do so now. I think it will interfere with the effect of the mushrooms."

"And let you poison me? I think not."

Sarevok snorted. "My life is tied to yours, fool. Do you think I would knowingly endanger myself?"

"How would I know what you'll do?" I muttered. But I twisted and yanked and finally got the ring off. Then I realized I had no pockets. Great. I set it down carefully next to my morning star. "You wouldn't believe what I went through to get that ring. If I lose it because of you, I will make your life a living hell."

"That would be redundant, dear sister." I gave him a startled look. Surely it wasn't so bad as that? "I admit that it astonishes me to find one who claims to strive for good to be so deeply attached to an artifact of such palpable evil," he continued. "Do you not feel like a hypocrite?"

"Now you sound like Anomen. It's just a ring. And a damned useful one at that."

"You might as well say that Bhaal's bone dagger is just a knife. It has its uses as well, after all."

Time for a subject change. "Tell me about these mushrooms. Do you really think they will give me an insight? Do I even want an insight?"

Sarevok's Slayer lessons had not gone so well. He had tried to teach me to meditate as a way to access Bhaal's power in my blood. Nothing had happened. Since we didn't have time for the years of training he'd received from his mentor, Winski Perorate, he decided we needed to attempt a breakthrough. Hence the mushrooms, which he claimed could open my soul's eye, or some such nonsense.

"We don't have time to train you as I was trained," Sarevok said, echoing my thought as he often did these days. "Especially since you refuse to learn."

"I'm not refusing, I just don't get it." He frowned. "I've always been stupid, ask anyone."

"No one could be this stupid," he muttered. "You resist. As soon as I feel the Slayer, you tense up and fight me."

"It hurts!"

"Nonsense, that is all in your head. The pain is not real."

"If it feels like pain, it's pain. Have you never had a headache? They're plenty real, for all you can't lay your hands on them and shake them into submission."

"We're going to try the mushrooms. Winski—my old tutor—said they are sometimes useful for breaking through the mind's resistance. Meditation is better, and it strengthens your will as well, but that doesn't seem to be working for you. This can be a shortcut."

"I'm all for shortcuts."

"This is important, Keeta. That mage Irenicus could never have stripped your power from you if you hadn't thrust it away. You delivered yourself into his hands." I wasn't so sure but we'd had this argument before. I rolled my eyes. He handed me the wine bottle. "I made a tea from the Umber Caps," he said. "It's better for your first time."

"Better how?"

"Easier to keep down." His eyes flicked to the bucket. Oh joy, he had planned for vomit. What fun. He took a couple of the dried mushrooms and put them in his mouth.

"You're going to do it too?" He nodded, chewed, swallowed. "Are you sure that's wise?" He just looked at me. "How much of this do I drink?"

"All of it, if you can."

That didn't sound so good. I wiggled the cork out and took a cautious sniff. "Oh, gods. No."

"Coward."

"You don't really expect me to drink this." He gave me a look. I brought the bottle to my lips. The first drop hit my tongue and I gagged.

"Chug it quick," he suggested. One hand closed around the back of my neck and the other tilted the bottle. He didn't let me up for air until most of the cold tea was gone. I coughed and choked and gagged again. Sarevok nudged the bucket towards me. If I threw up now, he'd probably make me try again and knowing what to expect would make it that much worse. I swallowed and swallowed as saliva flowed in my mouth but I managed to keep everything down. For now. He took a long pull from the whiskey bottle and then handed it to me. I frowned.

"To take away the taste," he said. I didn't care for the taste of whiskey but anything was better than the diseased orc dung in my mouth.

"Remind me to kill you later," I said once I had my breath back. "How long does it take to work?"

"Not long. Sit still and listen."

I sat still. He didn't say anything. "What am I supposed to be listening to?" He gave me another one of his looks. Was I supposed to be listening to the silence? Ugh. "Meditation is fine for priests and mages but I'm a warrior."

"Warriors live or die by the strength of their will."

"Warriors live or die by the strength of their arms and armor," I said.

"If you believe that, you are a bigger fool than I took you for."

"Yeah? I bet you didn't think that was possible, did you?" The glow from the walls cast a shadow across his face but I was fairly sure he smiled, a little. "If gear is unimportant, why were you ready to strangle that smith for botching your plate?"

Despite the extra gold we had paid for quick service, the smith in Saradush had done a poor job of the fitting of his plate. Sarevok had been furious. Well, I'd been annoyed as well and there had been no time to make him do it right. Anomen and I would have to fix it ourselves.

"So you're telling me that should you find yourself without that sword you think so much of—and some day you must tell me where in the Nine Hells you came upon a githyanki Silver Sword—you'd be helpless? Would you lie down and die? Or would you pick up another weapon?"

"What I wouldn't do is suddenly start listening to nothing or sit around getting high on whiskey and Umber Caps." I took another swig from Sarevok's bottle. I was almost used to the burn.

"Do not confuse the instruction with the end result. You are disciplined and your will is strong. But your will is not disciplined. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"No."

He leaned forward, put his hands on my knees. His eyes were intent.

"You have disciplined your body to obey you but the Slayer does not assault you through your body. The Slayer assaults you through your mind. The Slayer is nothing more than Bhaal's taint trying to take physical form. You allow this to happen."

"No, I don't _allow_ it. I have no choice."

"Through discipline, you will. But first you must become aware of the taint. That you have managed to suppress the urges of your blood as you have is truly impressive." His tone was bland but I suspected sarcasm. "But by burying these impulses instead of acting upon them, you have created a zone of vulnerability. If the Slayer is not truly part of you, then you feel no responsibility for its actions—and you refuse to exert control over it."

"I am not the Slayer."

"Lying to yourself is a weakness, Keeta. By denying the truth, you give a part of yourself over to Him. Is that what you want?"

"I do not want the Slayer. Ever."

Sarevok tightened his grip on my knees painfully.

"That is not your choice!" He was close to shouting and we were too close for that. His voice hurt my ears. "Damn you, don't you understand? You may turn your back on your power but you cannot make it go away. Bhaal will not go away if you're a good little girl. Bhaal will not go away because you pray to Lathander and give gold to beggars. It doesn't matter how many lives you save or how many wrongs you right. You are still the Daughter of Murder. The only thing that can change that is your death."

I tried to move away but he grabbed me by the shoulder.

"You only have one choice, Keeta. Seize the power you are heir to or die to feed Him."

"There has to be another choice."

Sarevok released me.

"There is not. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you can learn what you need to control the power."

As I sat cross-legged on the floor, mirroring Sarevok's pose, the room _rippled_ from the ground up. I blinked. "What the hells?" I laid my hand flat on the floor and felt nothing unusual. My mouth was dry so I took a swig from Sarevok's bottle, which sat between us like a silent chaperone. He watched me. His pupils were huge—tiny gates to _somewhere_—somewhere vast—somewhere I was suddenly sure I didn't want to go.

I wondered if my eyes looked the same. I shivered.

"Fear not," Sarevok murmured. "Relax. Let it happen."

The room rippled again. I was to relax in the middle of an earthquake? And let _what_ happen? I looked over at my ring, still where I'd left it despite the swaying of the room. If I put it on now, would it cure me and take this feeling away from me?

Sarevok leaned forward and took my hands, pressed them down upon my knees. His face came close to mine. The gold of his eyes was a thin bright ring around his enormous pupils. His breath was foul from the mushrooms. Like mine, no doubt. Ugh.

"Think on the Slayer," he said. "Nay," he said as my hands turned to fists. "Do not fight your own thoughts. The Slayer is naught but a tool, sharp and deadly as any sword, but a tool that you can control."

"No," I whispered. "It is alive. I feel it."

"Bhaal is dead. It is you who are alive. Bhaal's essence cannot be destroyed, any more than you can destroy the wind." He paused and slowly blinked. His eyes flickered like he saw something to his side. There was nothing there. "Your will can become the sail that uses that wind," he continued. His hands were very warm. Mine felt icy. And my lips were numb.

"No," I said. "I think—no."

"What?"

"This power—it's not a tool. Or maybe it's not a tool meant for mortal hands. Not a sail—more like a sword. A sword with no hilt, a sword you must grasp by the blade. And it cuts me—it cuts me so deep."

"Then—your will must become the hilt by which you can grasp this weapon. You say you want to control the Slayer. Do so."

"No!" I could hear my voice rising, shrill. "No, I don't want to."

Sarevok leaned in, still holding my hands. I felt his weight press down on my knees. "Coward," he said. "You must."

"No!"

"You took this power from me and now it is yours. And you are too fearful to use it? Fool! Curse the gods and their sense of irony. To let me fall at your hands—and to chain me to you—shackled to a coward and a fool! Damn you!"

I tried to pull my hands loose but his grip had become a painful vise. "No one makes you stay here."

"Are you really so stupid? Can you not feel how my fate is yoked to yours?"

"I—what do you mean?" He glared at me. "I've told you that you are free to go. We're no longer trapped in Saradush, you know. What nonsense is this?"

Sarevok bit down on his first response. "I have said more than I meant to say."

I just bet. If he was trapped, it was by his own greed. Did he truly think I was so blind that I couldn't see his own ambition at work? He may have lost his own taint but he could still rise to greater power on the strength of mine.

"Yeah?" I said. "Well, don't get all pissy with me. This whole thing was your idea, remember? If a piece of my soul is stuck inside you it's because you asked for it."

"Yes," he sighed. "I know. So the gods lay us low, by our own words and deeds."

"For someone who professes to be faithless, you sure have the gods on your mind a lot." The next ripple did not come from the floor. It came from inside my own head. I closed my eyes against a wave of dizziness.

"We are god-ridden," he said. "For what should I pray? Mercy? They have no mercy for us. We are tools for the gods' hands, just as the taint is a tool for your hands. They don't hesitate to use us for their purposes. Why should you hold back?"

"Because," I said. And then the room went dark for a moment. "Because—because—" The floor moved, or no, was something crawling? Crawling out of the floor? I blinked again. Was my mind playing tricks? And what was that sound? A scream—many screams—where were they coming from?

Sarevok was closer now, close enough for his knees to touch mine. He lifted my hands, pulled me in so we were face to face.

"Because why?" he asked. "What is it that you feel?"

"To use it—it is a gate to the Abyss," I whispered. "Do you hear them? The murdered souls? Don't you hear them scream? Don't you hear them sob and beg? Don't you feel them?" Even over the screams, I heard Sarevok's quiet words.

"I have heard them."

I shivered. I felt cold all through me. "If you look—the walls have eyes. And teeth. This place—how can we stay in this horrible place? All the suffering, all the murder—it is Him. It is all part of Him."

"Bhaal is dead," Sarevok said. "He may speak in your dreams, as He spoke in mine, but He cannot compel you to do His will unless you put that power into His hands. Take it back, Keeta. Wield it, as you must."  
"No! I don't want it! It is a god's power, not mine! I don't want to be a god!"

"Ah," Sarevok said. "We come to the crux of it."


	9. Spoiling for a Fight

**Ch. 9…Spoiling for a Fight**

I dragged myself to the common room the next morning, hoping for solitude and, as usual, disappointed. How in the Nine Hells did Imoen manage to be so perky, so early in the day? Well, I assumed it was early, if my internal timepiece hadn't gotten out of whack. How I missed the sun in this gloomy enclosed plane.

"What was that ruckus last night?" she asked. She had already loaded up her plate with food, and jabbed a fork in with simple gusto. I held out my hand and Cespenar silently pressed a mug into it. Tea. Still hot, too. I took a big sip, scorched my mouth.

"For the gods' sake, lower your voice."

"Why?" she asked. "I wasn't shouting." She gave me a closer look. "You sure look pasty, green even. Is it really true then?"

"What?"

"That Anomen caught you and Sarevok carousing last night?"

Carousing? Ugh. "Don't ask."

"If I don't ask, I won't know. Anomen is shut up in your room and I don't see Sarevok unburdening his soul to me."

I winced.

"You do look hung over," she continued. "Did you two really drink a whole bottle of whiskey?"

"Why ask questions if you know all the answers?"

"I don't know _all _the answers. Sarevok told me to shove off and mind my own business. Gotta say, he looked hung over too. Not as bad as you though."

"Shove off," I said. "Mind your own business."

* * *

Back on the road. Our merry band was grim and silent. Anomen wouldn't meet my eye and Keldorn watched him with a worried frown. Jaheira gave me the same sort of frown before she shapeshifted into wolf form to scout the road ahead. Sarevok seemed his normal self—surly, silent and disdainful. Or was he? He scarcely looked at me either, but he strode out on his long legs as if he knew the road better than the rest of us.

If the gods were merciful, they would bring me something to kill. Soon. My hand strayed to my sword hilt every few minutes.

Around midday Jaheira loped towards us and changed back to a woman. Whether it was the gods' mercy or simple inevitability, we had our prey.

"Yaga-Shura's men," she told us. "A raiding party, no doubt, for they have wagons and packhorses with them."

"Their numbers?" Sarevok asked. I let the details flow over me as I ran my hands over my gear. I was in my travel leathers but the enchantment on them was good. And I had my sword. What else did I need?

"Is this really necessary?" Imoen asked. "Can't we just go around them?" No one answered although Jaheira looked thoughtful. "Really," she continued. "I thought we needed to get to this forest. A fight will just slow us down."

"You want to evade them and leave an enemy behind us?" I said.

On top of my words, Sarevok said, "They have a mage who can scry our position."

"Uh huh," Imoen said. "They're probably just raiding the farms for food. But I can see you all are spoiling for a fight. Sheesh."

She was right. Jaheira and Keldorn had the noble goals of justice or vengeance—I knew Jaheira was still outraged by the dead children she had seen in the army's wake. And Anomen—I couldn't tell what he was thinking. But I couldn't deny I was spoiling for a fight and a glance at Sarevok made me think he felt the same restless energy. Was I addicted to killing like Anomen (Sarevok claimed) was addicted to his god?

Maybe.

Did this make me a bad person?

Probably.

"Where are they?" I asked Jaheira.

We overtook the wagon first. There was but a light guard. The wagon was half loaded and the horses plodded along the rutted road, heading away from Saradush. We were well within arrow range before we were noticed.

"Their rear sentry in the wagon has his feet up on a barrel, dozing," sharp-eyed Jaheira reported. "I count six: the driver and another soldier riding up front, the sentry in the wagon, and three walking up ahead. Ah, they see us."

Someone called out. The driver checked his horses. We were close enough now that I could see the sentry sit up and fumble for something at his side. A crossbow.

We fanned out and continued to approach, Sarevok eating the ground with his unhurried long stride. The soldiers may have thought we were refugees but not for long. Poorly armed, poorly trained, they went down in minutes. The men dragged the bodies off the road while Jaheira calmed the restless horses. She unbuckled their harness.

"Go free," she told them but they dropped their heads as if they didn't know what freedom was. "Come closer, Keeta. Come to the upwind side."

I wasn't real sure which direction was upwind but I walked towards the horses, careful to avoid the kicking end. They caught a good whiff of my taint and began to sidle uneasily. She slapped their rumps to encourage them and finally they shuffled off. I wondered if there were any farmers left to care for them and suspected their fate now was to fill some wolf's belly. Jaheira would consider that the natural way of things, no doubt. Imoen poked through the soldiers' booty in the wagon.

"What do we do with all this stuff?" she asked.

"Nothing?" I suggested.

"Someone will claim it in time," Jaheira said. "If there are any survivors here, the food will be welcome."

"Well I hope so," Imoen said. "It would be a shame if Yaga-Shura gets it after all."

"Burn the food and the wagon as well," Sarevok said, back from his unpleasant task.

"A waste," Jaheira said and he shrugged. We left the wagon blocking the road and moved on, with Jaheira in the lead, tracking.

"They have split up," Jaheira said. "This smaller group heads for that farmhouse up ahead." She pointed but all I could see was a smudge that could have been anything. Oh for elven eyes. "That farm has been sacked at least once but I suppose they are checking to see if they missed anything."

The farm had been beautiful once—near the river and in sight of the bridge, clearly fertile and prosperous before it fell. The stench of the bodies was faint now. As Jaheira might say, they had been cleansed by nature, little more now than pathetic bundles of bones in the long grass.

The soldiers here were alert and organized and outnumbered us. Not that sheer numbers helped them much. They had no mage, nor cleric, and mere mundane weapons were not enough to stand against us, not for long. They soon realized that but fought on with grim purpose. Their leader, on horseback, shouted and prodded his men. A few fought from cover, with crossbows, and I really wished I had my plate. Nice thing about leather, though, it doesn't slow you down when you have to scramble up a ladder to pull some sharp-eyed archer out of a hay loft. I tumbled down, quicker than I had gone up, to see Sarevok snatch up a loaded crossbow from one of the fallen soldiers. His eyes were on the mounted leader.

"Stop him, take him down," he yelled to Imoen but she was on one knee, with blood on her face. He aimed at the horse and its rider yanked on the reins. The horse pulled up, wheeled around. Sarevok fired and missed. "He will warn the others."

"Then we'd best get moving," I said. Sarevok glared at me.

"You!"

"What?"

He strode towards me as Jaheira examined Imoen's wounded head. He grabbed my arm and steered me towards the barn, away from the others.

"Take a care, damn you," he hissed. "I cannot be in two places at once."

"Who asked you to?"

"You are wounded, fool. Must you charge off on your own like that?"

"Wounded?" Had I been wounded? I looked down at my leathers. "This blood isn't mine." I looked a little closer. "Well, maybe some of it is. You aren't fussing over this trivial cut on my arm, surely?" I looked down the road. The road ran alongside the river but the rider had cut across a foot path and clattered over a spidery bridge, which held his horse's weight, somewhat to my surprise. No wagon could cross this bridge. There must be a ford further down the road. Horse and rider disappeared behind a mass of trees. "I wonder how far off their reinforcements are."

"We may as well wait for them here, where we have cover," Sarevok said.

"Is that the Forest of Mir up ahead?"

"I don't think so. I believe we are still a day's march away, perhaps more, if we continue with these time-wasting detours." He bent down to look at my wounded arm.

"Anomen can fix that scratch in a second or two," I said. "Going to take longer to fix my tunic. Who'd have thought that pimply kid would be carrying an enchanted blade?"

"Take a potion," Sarevok said. "Heal it now."

"Waste a potion on this?" We were pretty flush with potions, I had to admit, because we had cleared out Gromnir's stores. He had kept his mages busy, it seemed. Sarevok frowned at me. "Why are you giving me that look? Anomen might be a little ticked off but he'll still heal me." He kept looking at me. "Besides, I think it's you he's mad at." Mostly.

"When did you last see Anomen cast a spell?"

"I—" I wasn't sure, actually, and Sarevok's look made me feel deeply uneasy. "Last night! He healed me when those mushrooms made me so sick."

"You don't remember what happened?" I remembered the waking nightmare. I remembered the screaming. And then—what? "He didn't heal you. He put the Ring of Gaxx on your finger."

"Oh. Well. Anomen hates excessive drinking, you know." His detestable foul father had been a notorious drunkard. "He won't heal a hangover. Figures it's punishment for your sins."

"If you say so."

"I do." What was with his skeptical look? "Just what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying I want you to curb your recklessness. There is no need for you to charge off like a berserker."

"I am what I am." And I know an evasion when I hear one. "What is your point about Anomen? And what in the Nine Hells did you say to him last night?" While I was off vomiting my guts out. We had been walking toward the river while we talked, for I was no longer willing to risk being overheard. And like Sarevok, I wasn't too happy that we had let one of Yaga-Shura's men escape. I wanted to keep an eye on the road.

"I had little opportunity to say anything. I was subjected to a jealous diatribe." We had reached the shade of a large oak. Light and shadow dappled his face.

"You think he's jealous? Don't make me laugh. Of what?"

"Of us."

I blinked in astonishment. "Of us—what?"

"You slipped off to be alone with me, fool. I am a man, you know."

"So I hear." I gave him a look. "That's ridiculous. Anomen wouldn't think that you and I were doing—stuff."

"You and I _were_ doing—stuff."

"Nothing to be jealous about!" My eyes narrowed. "Just what did you tell him, Sarevok?" I didn't need him stirring up trouble with Anomen. I had enough trouble with Anomen. Could this be why he had been so strange, so silent? That made no sense at all.

"Should I have told him your virtue was safe with me?" Sarevok leaned into me, his lips moving in a half smile. "Would he have been reassured, do you think?" I stepped back, half stumbled on a large tree root, felt its thick trunk at my back.

"He doesn't trust you," I said. "But that doesn't matter. He certainly trusts me."

"Does he?" He was so close I could feel his breath on my face. "Shall we test that?" His eyes glowed. I should have hit him but I didn't. "We are linked," he continued. "You have felt this."

"No." My voice was but a whisper.

"You came to my aid when I fell to the vampires. You felt my danger—do you deny this? I can feel the Slayer when it stirs within you. I felt your fear last night when you panicked. And I can feel when you are injured. Have you not been curious about what else we can feel?"

"No!"

He moved closer still. His hand rose, as if he would touch me while he watched my eyes for a signal. "Were I to feel desire—would you feel it too?"

His golden eyes burned into me. My lips parted. What was he up to? Did he really want to seduce me? Nothing was ever simple with this man—he was a controller, a manipulator and he was definitely up to something. Wasn't he? I don't know what I was going to say. But I felt a heavy vibration through my boots. Sarevok jerked back. We both turned and we both reached for our swords.

Something was coming. Something big. A fight, thank the gods. I was saved.


	10. A Test of Faith

**Ch. 10…A Test of Faith**

Giants. I hate fighting giants. Okay, I hate fighting mages worse, but giants are bad. They're big, they hit very hard, and when you fight them, it seems you spend the whole time staring right at their groin. It's demoralizing.

"I don't think he can cross the bridge," I said. "We can hold him here."

"With what?" Sarevok said. He cranked up the crossbow he'd snatched up earlier. "I have a dozen bolts and then I guess we'll be down to throwing curses."

"We need help." I let out a piercing whistle. We hadn't come that far from the farmyard—had we? But we had. I couldn't hear or see the others.

"You've called _their_ reinforcements," Sarevok said drily. Sure enough. Several crossbowmen were chivied towards us by the mounted officer—I'd hoped we'd seen the last of _him_—and, curse it, a girl in robes, a mage, no doubt.

"Well, that's not good," I said.

"We have to fall back to the farmhouse."

"Yeah," I said. "Oh crap." The mage raised her hands and began a familiar chant. "Get down." The fireball sailed across the river and landed with a whoosh in the long grass to our side, exploding into flames. Luckily the grass was wet and the wind was still or the whole field would have caught.

"We're at the far end of her range," Sarevok said.

"Or she's not very good." I peeked around the boulder where we'd taken cover. "You know, I'm not sure she even sees us. I think she's trying to flush us out for the archers." And that gave me an idea. I had several invisibility potions in my pouch. I sheathed my sword and pulled out two. I thrust one in the handy belt loop I used for healing potions and I popped the other one. And I disappeared.

Gromnir hadn't stinted on his alchemy lab—the potion was wonderfully crafted. I didn't shimmer and I didn't even leave a shadow. It tasted horrible though. I swallowed a chuckle.

"What—Keeta, no!" Sarevok reached for me but I was already running for the bridge.

I wouldn't have tried this if I'd been wearing my usual plate but in leather with my soft boots I fancied I was almost as quiet as Imoen. I crossed the bridge. My first order of business was to take out the mage and that led me to my first dilemma—stay on the path or creep through the long grass? I might be invisible but my body had weight and my movement in the grass would be visible to anyone looking my way. Staying on the path, I ended up closer to the horse than I would have liked. The whole upwind/downwind thing tends to puzzle me but there wasn't much wind at all, so I guess that was good. Even so, the horse sidled, rolled his eyes, snorted and made all those other horsy signs of displeasure when I passed. Would it help if I deliberately spooked it? Maybe it would dump its rider. I might try that later but the mage was first.

She was young. She had freckles on her nose. Her blood ran hot on the ground when I drew my long dagger across her throat and she crumpled to the ground with a quiet sigh. I was visible.

The horseman shouted and aimed his horse right at me, like a weapon. I jumped aside before he could run me down. The horse's eyes rolled madly. I dove into the bushes and fumbled out the second potion, chugged it down.

That was fun.

The horseman didn't leave me much in the way of leisure to sort out a third potion. And I was severely hampered by the fact that everything on me was invisible so the color coding on the vials was pretty much useless. Drinking a healing potion by mistake wouldn't be that great. Maybe I should have thought this through a little better. The officer wheeled his horse to the bridge, to block my way back across the river. His mage was dead and he couldn't dispel my invisibility but he could certainly wait until the potion wore off. Where in the Nine Hells was my backup?

I heard the whir of the crossbow and the horse screamed with pain. Hit in the flank. That was a damned pretty shot—was there anything Sarevok wasn't good at? The horse stumbled and the officer slid half out of the saddle and clung precariously to the saddle tree. Before he could get his balance I ran in close. Another big whiff of my unnatural taint was all the poor horse could handle. He bolted. His rider lost his battle for balance. He was dragged several bumpy lengths before his boot came out of the stirrup and when he crawled to his knees he looked really pissed.

The giant roared and thundered towards the bridge. He couldn't see me (I hoped) but he flailed around with his big ugly club. If he hit me with that I'd be squashed to jelly. A crossbow twanged and the giant grunted and rubbed at his face, at the bolt now protruding at the corner of his eye. Should I take advantage of his distraction? My sword was in my hands as quick as the doubt. He wore the kind of greaves that cover the front of your shins and leave the back fairly unprotected. Too bad for him, ha ha, I hamstrung him—both legs at once. He hit the ground with a scream and a thud like a felled tree. Then the archers started on me.

I ran across the bridge. It's not that easy to hit a moving target but they managed twice, two meaty thunks in my back that hurt fairly bad. I kept running. And then there was another whoosh and a crash and some welcome screams behind me when Imoen's fireball landed. Help at last. I might have smiled except Sarevok practically crashed into me. He grabbed my arm and shook me. His eyes burned with fury.

"Get behind that tree," he growled. He shoved me away and drew his sword. Anomen and Keldorn were already moving forward towards what remained of the fight. I staggered to cover and my back yelped in pain with every step.

This time, none of Yaga-Shura's soldiers survived to report on our position.

Sarevok stalked towards me. "Never do that again," he said.

"What did she do?" Imoen asked.

"I warned you not to charge off without me. I will not tolerate this defiance." I gaped at him in astonishment. Defiance? Was he giving me orders now? "You have no right to take such foolish risks." He continued to berate me like I was a child. "What do you think would happen if you died in one of these meaningless skirmishes? What do you think would happen to _me_?"

"How in the Nine Hells should I know? I'd be dead."

"We'd both be dead. You'll drag me with you to the Abyss like a tethered calf, just as that mage Irenicus dragged your soul after his when you struck a mortal blow." He grabbed my arms and shook me. The bolts pulled in my back. I gasped with the pain.

"You don't know that's what will happen," I said. I tried to shake him loose but his grip tightened.

"You don't know that it won't."

"Sarevok, that's enough," Anomen said. "Keeta has been wounded. Leave her be." Sarevok released me and turned on Anomen.

"It is not enough." His eyes narrowed. "But you are correct, she has been wounded. Let us see you heal those wounds, priest, if you can. Show us your power."

"Sarevok's lost it," Imoen muttered. "He's finally snapped." But Anomen met Sarevok's furious and challenging gaze and then his eyes dropped. He flushed—with shame?

"I cannot," Anomen said.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, once we were back in the privacy of our room. Anomen had drawn the bolts out of my back and Jaheira had healed the wounds they'd left.

Anomen gave me a look of such misery that I instantly regretted the harshness of my tone. "I should have told you. I wanted to, and yet—it is difficult to confess to such a failure." He sighed. "Especially to you. It is hard enough to admit even to myself that I have lost Helm's favor."

"I don't understand what has happened. How can you have lost His favor? I don't know anyone more faithful or more vigilant than you." He finally stopped pacing and sat in one of the two armchairs. I took the other, pulled it up close so that our knees touched.

"I have disobeyed Him, Keeta." He took a deep shuddering breath and passed his hand over his eyes. "I—I cannot bear it."

"But Anomen—what—I don't understand!"

"Helm has given me a task. I have refused Him." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "He asks so much—too much." I reached forward, took his hands so he would have to look at me. His hands were cold. "I have pledged him my life—my soul—and He has blessed me greatly. I have never held back! I have never asked for anything but to serve, with all my heart and all my might—but now—what he asks now—"

"What?" I whispered.

"I have to leave this place. I have to leave you." His hands squeezed mine. "He says that you are already lost to me—that your feet are set on a path I may not follow."

"I'm not!" But he continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"He has a task that will take me far from here. He says this is a task of paramount importance and that I must be His champion. He honors me and He punishes me at the same time."

"What is this task?"

"I do not know."

"How long have you known this?" I asked but I thought I knew the answer. "Since the fight with Gromnir? When you were so badly wounded?"

"Aye. I was in His presence, Keeta. Ah, the glory of it—but now He has withdrawn from me." He wept. I thought my heart would burst.

"This is my fault, isn't it? I should have known your god wouldn't put up with you consorting with a Bhaalspawn forever."

"Nay, my love!" But I saw his look of wretched guilt. Anomen could never hide his feelings.

"I always thought the Radiant Heart would come between us one day, but this—it isn't fair! Anomen, what are we going to do?"

"If I stay—and this is the wish of my heart, never doubt that—I will be of no use to you or to anyone." I opened my mouth to protest. Did he think his power was all I cared about? "If Helm is testing me—testing my faith—how can I live with myself if I fail Him?" He took a breath but his voice was still low and unsteady. "Why would He test me so? Have I not been faithful? What weakness does He see in me? What fault must I correct?"

"No, Anomen, no. You haven't failed Him, I'm certain. I don't think this is a test." Surely he had been tested enough. "Sarevok said we're the gods' tools and I swear I think he's right."

His head came up. "Sarevok," he said with loathing. "How I wish you would send him away."

"He said you were jealous—surely you don't think there is anything between us. Other than, well, expediency I guess."

"He looks at you with avarice—and something else, a species of desire or envy. I think he hates you, Keeta. He draws you closer to him but he does not mean you well."

"I am useful to him. He will put his own needs over all else, I have no illusion about that," I said. "But he is clever. I thought he was paranoid about the role of the gods in our lives but now I am not so sure. In your case, I think it is as simple as you first said. Helm has a task and you are the tool He needs. He will do whatever is needed to make you obey. Our feelings don't matter."

"Helm is not callous, Keeta! But—He is stern. He demands much of His priests. Ah, Keeta—" He gave a long shuddering sigh. "I cannot stand against His will any longer." I stood, took a few steps toward the bed and turned away from him. I heard his heavy step behind me. "Keeta." He took my hands and drew me over to the bed. We sat and faced each other. "My love. You have been the light beside me when anger and hatred had taken over my heart and pulled me away from the path of righteousness. I shall always be grateful to you for that."

I felt the tears come to my eyes and I turned my head.

"Nay, my love, do not look away. We have made promises to each other. I swore never to leave you and you swore never to send me away." He stroked my hair and my tears fell into my lap. "I love you, Keeta, and that shall never change."

"You're saying goodbye. Don't say goodbye."

"I must!" His voice broke. "I must ask you to release me from my promise, as I release you from yours. My vows to Helm were made long before I met you and He—"

"He comes first," I said. Anomen shook his head but he didn't—he couldn't—deny it.

"Don't leave me," I said. "I don't want to be released. I love you." His tears fell hot and burning on my hands.

"I'm sorry," he said. He put his arms around me. "We both knew this day would come, my love. I never truly believed I was worthy of you," he whispered.

"Not true," I said. He put a finger on my lips to stop me.

"Will you release me?" he asked gently. I looked into his eyes and I could see it was too late. His mind was made up and my words would not sway him. If his god had spoken, that was the end of it. The end of us.

Sarevok had been right all along. Damn him. Damn him and damn all the gods who hounded and prodded us and forced our service for their own goals. They didn't force us, no, for we had free will. They just broke us if we didn't obey.

"I won't hold you to any promises," I sighed. "If that is your wish."

"Not my wish," he said. "Never my wish." He stood and walked to his pack, which leaned against the wall. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. His pack was almost full, I noticed, with a tiny spark of anger. He'd already packed his gear? When? He'd already made up his mind? If Sarevok hadn't forced the issue, when would he have told me? Anomen reached into his pack and pulled out a small cloth-wrapped package that had been lying on top.

"There is something I would like you to have," he said hesitantly. He opened the package and I saw a glint of silver. "This ring belonged to my sister. I had hoped—" He swallowed. "I wish you will keep it in remembrance of me." I tried to choke back a sob as I gave him my hand and he pushed the ring over my finger. "Don't cry, my lady." I threw my arms around him and he held me close. His own tears had stopped, I saw when I looked into his face, and I fancied I saw a faraway expression in his eyes. He was already headed down the road, in his mind.

"I have spoken to Keldorn," he said. "And I have spoken to that imp of yours as well. It is our belief that if you send me through the portal alone, Helm's will shall set my feet on the path I must follow."

"What if it doesn't? What if you get sent to Limbo or something? I should go with you so I can bring you back if something goes wrong."

"Nay, Keeta. Our paths diverge now, my love."

"But what if—" He shook his head at me. "Anomen, you take a lot on faith!"

"Faith is all that is left to me."

Anomen's shoulders were square with purpose as we stood before the portal. I thought he wouldn't look back as he stepped through the shimmering gate, but in the last moment, he did. I almost wished he hadn't, for his face brought me new tears, just as I thought I was done with weeping. His eyes widened in an expression that might have been surprise and his lips moved. He spoke and I strained to hear him over the roar of the portal's magic. And then he was gone. The gate had taken him but I had no idea where it put him. Faith. I suppose he had faith enough for the two of us for I found my own faith dwindling fast.

And his last words were a puzzle. "Watcher's Keep." Assuming Helm was the Watcher, was this a benediction cut short? What did the Watcher keep?

Whatever He wanted, it would seem. He would keep what was His.

I had my head down, and I blinked bitter tears. In the corridor that led to my room I almost ran into Sarevok, who blocked my way like a man-shaped boulder.

"Go lurk somewhere else, damn you." I stepped around him but he took my arm.

"Has Anomen gone?"

"His god called him away. You were right, as always. Does that give you joy?" I shook loose from his hold but he continued to block my way. His eyes were solemn and still.

"I would not see you in such pain."

"What do you know of my feelings?" Had he felt this way when Tamoko turned on him, betrayed him? No—I would not think on his feelings. If he even had any, which seemed highly unlikely, all things considered. But he put his hand over his heart.

"I feel it here," he said. "When you hurt, I feel it too, like an echo through my soul. I would ease your pain if I could."

More tears came. Damn him, damn him. "You can't!" I snapped. "Get out of my way!"


	11. The Temple

**Ch. 11…The Temple**

The Mir wood might be called a forest but it was a very wet and swampy sort of forest. We had walked most of the day down a muddy path that had once been a road. There were no signs that anyone had come this way before us in a long, long time. Without the detailed map Melissan had given us, I doubt we ever could have found our way. My boots and legs were slimed up to the knees with a foul smelling muck that would likely never come out of my travel leathers. Dark clouds had hidden the sun all day and I had no idea what time it was. Judging by the ache in my legs, it was late.

Anomen's absence was like the pain of a broken tooth, always with me and probed in secret again and again.

For the last few hours, the forest had become eerily silent. No birds, no animal cries, not even the sound of insects could be heard. There was nothing but the drip of water from the branches of the sickly trees that reached across the path like diseased beggars seeking alms. Some dread blight had overtaken the forest. I'd never in my life been in a swamp that didn't teem with biting or stinging insects, until now. This stillness was definitely unnatural and I didn't have to see Jaheira's deep uneasiness to know that.

We passed through a zone of dying trees and into a zone of dead ones. The marshy trail we had been following firmed up under foot to become broken pavement. And then we reached the ruins.

"This is the temple?" I asked. Surely time and nature alone hadn't created this ruin. The outer wall had been torn apart by some mighty explosion that had scattered great blocks of stone in a rough circle.

"I know of this place," Sarevok said. "This was a temple of Bhaal, abandoned since Bhaal's death, or so I've been told."

"I, too, know of this place," Jaheira said grimly. I looked at her in some surprise. "The Harpers struck here long ago and drove off the Bhaalists who made their base here. Gorion told me of this."

"Gorion was here? Right here?"

"He was the sworn enemy of the Bhaalist cult, child, and he led many such raids, to cleanse the temples of their evil rites and to save what innocent victims he could. Did you not know this?"

"Your Gorion was the wolf that Bhaal's sheep feared," Sarevok said.

Jaheira gave him a belligerent look. "Gorion was a hero."

"He was a fanatic," Sarevok replied.

"How come I don't know any of this?" I complained. "I didn't even know he was a Harper for certain until you told me, Jaheira, remember?"

"He was always close-lipped," she agreed.

"And he never said anything about Bhaal, other than making me learn those stupid prophecies. He never told me a damned thing."

"I didn't know any of this either," Imoen said.

"But surely, child, you knew that you were taken as a babe from just such a temple as this."

Sarevok laughed. "Yes, that is so. Consider the irony if you had been snatched from this very temple," he said. "It's not impossible. The timing would have been about right."

"You knew, too?" I asked him. Jaheira frowned, her lips pressed tight. "You're—"

Imoen thumped my back. "Shut up!" she hissed. "Can't you feel it?" I whirled at the sound of a sword leaving its scabbard. It was Keldorn. He held his sword with the blade pointing down to the ground. A soft white glow ran up the length of the holy blade. It was a warning.

"Evil approaches," Keldorn said. I felt it then, a cold shiver running down the back of my neck. A mist rose from the broken pavement, lapping around our feet in a cool white tide. The sky turned darker still, dark as night. We all had our weapons out.

Out of the darkness, from the direction of the temple, a darker form approached. It moved through the pale fog in utter silence. I could make out no face or features, but the creature had a voice. It called my name.

"Keeta."

"No," whispered Jaheira. Her hands clenched her staff. "It cannot be!"

"Halt, Keeta," the shade said, in the voice of the man who raised me—my father in everything but blood—Gorion. "Stand forth, and go no further."

Oh, I stood forth quick enough. I stood forth with steel in my hands. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Have you forgotten me so soon? Have you forgotten me as you have forgotten everything I tried to teach you? I will not have it, Keeta." His dark hands rose and a shock of energy slammed into my chest. My breath came out in a huff but I was frozen in place, I could not move. "You cut a bloody swathe through the Sword Coast after I was murdered. And my murderer stands by your side, his blade no bloodier than yours. I will not have it!" And he struck me again. Harder. "You're like a beast—worse than a beast—slaying and slaying, until the world shudders with the cries of those you have murdered."

All around us rose the cries of anguished spirits.

"I devoted my life to cleansing Bhaal's evil from the world, yet you feed the prophecy with every new murder. You murder my hopes as you murdered me!" His hands rose again and the bolt sent me flying back to hit the ground in a wet squish I felt through the seat of my leathers. I scrambled to my feet, the paralysis broken. Now I was really seeing red. And ghostly spirits rose up all around me. But I pushed through them towards the false Gorion.

"Die, you lying shade," I growled.

It laughed. "Do you think you are clever, god-child? You are surrounded, surrounded by those slain by your Gorion and his Harper kin. You do not murder the faithful in Bhaal's own temple! Not without retribution!"

I slashed my blade through his shadowy form and let the stroke continue on through two of the lesser shades that crowded around us. They were destroyed by the enchantments on my sword but the wraith seemed unaffected. Gods! If only Anomen were here! No undead could stand against him while he channeled Helm's power. That gave me a thought and I yanked my amulet out of my shirt, the one given to me by the Dawnbringer in Athkatla.

"Lathander, help me!" I begged. Well, demanded, really, but it worked. Light burst from the amulet. It wasn't enough to damage any shade, and maybe it did nothing more than bolster my own confidence but I did feel that the shades fell away and gave me more room to move.

Like me, Sarevok and Keldorn lay around themselves with their swords, forcing the shades to retreat. Only a temporary retreat at best, for they could flit in and out of the mist, close to invisible, at least to my eyes. Keldorn seemed to have no trouble striking them and the spirits quickly learned to fear his holy blade. Imoen had called a circle of flame to protect her. As far as I could tell, the spirits could not cross it, and the light was welcome indeed.

Yet they kept coming. Sarevok and I had the wraith caught between us, but if we injured it, I could not tell.

"By the Horns of Silvanus," I heard Jaheira mutter. "Enough." From the corner of my eye, I saw her plant her feet in a wide stance. Her head fell back and I felt a backlash of power prickle across me. Her hair streamed out in a pale cloud. And then lightning poured out of the black sky in a deafening crack that I could feel through my feet as well as through my ears. The bolts tore through the wraith, striking it again and again. I let the tip of my sword touch the ground, just in case, although I doubted such a minor precaution would protect me had nature's fury been turned on me. I squeezed my eyes shut against the glare, too late of course. More lightning struck, not just from the sky but now from the rod in Imoen's hand as well.

The shades were ripped to pieces.

Something shadowy, with way too many arms, had wrapped itself around Sarevok. Its head was buried inside his armor. I heard a sickening, slurping noise as I used my sword to peel it off his back. Imoen burned the thing up with a burst of flame. Sarevok sank to his knees, face gray, like his armor had become too heavy to bear. He didn't lose his grip on his sword, however.

"I've got you covered," I said, but the threat was gone. Any shade that hadn't been destroyed must have slunk off into the trees. "I'm sure glad that's over."

Keldorn had not sheathed his sword. His gaze was steady on the temple before us. "The battle is not over," he said. "We have more evil yet to face."

Great.

I pulled Jaheira aside and Imoen drifted over to join us. "What's wrong with Sarevok?" I asked.

"That's a question that would take all night to answer," Imoen said.

Jaheira frowned at her. "The shades have drained his vitality. I believe you have a scroll that will aid him, child."

"Yeah," she said. She snapped her fingers for a little ball of light, which bounced beside her as she dug through her scroll case. "I do. Hate to waste it on him, though," she muttered, as she pulled out the scroll she sought. She looked up at me. "Without Anomen, we're going to need a lot more supplies. Scrolls, potions, lots of stuff. Not sure where we're going to get it, either, unless you know of an arcane supply shop out here in the wilderness. When is he coming back?"

"He's not," I said.

"But Keeta, we really, really need him." Like I didn't know that. He had weakened us all when he left. Something to chalk up to Helm's account, as if I would ever get the chance to settle any debts with the gods.

Jaheira gave Imoen a gentle jab with her elbow. "We have no time for this," she said. "Cure Sarevok. I have no more love for him than you do but we must be practical. We need his sword arm if we are to finish our task."

"We need Anomen more," Imoen said. None of us disagreed.

* * *

The devastation inside the temple was awesome—had Gorion done all this? What a mage he must have been. We worked our way over the remains of pulverized walls, stepped over fallen columns. Inside was the choking stench of rot and decay—the reek of evil, Anomen might have said. Rocks small and large, and sandy grit everywhere made for treacherous footing. I was glad I was in my leather walking boots and not clomping around in plate.

I signaled the others to wait until I moved through the archway into what appeared to be the sanctum. As I moved forward, Sarevok grabbed my shoulder to pull me behind him.

"If you can't follow my lead, I don't need you here," I said in quiet fury.

"Little fool," he hissed. "If I die, you can resurrect me perhaps. If you die, we may both be lost." This was no time for an argument, so I gave him a curt nod to proceed. He had a point.

Most of the roof had fallen in. I cast an uneasy eye upward, wondering how stable the rest of the building might be. Sarevok stopped and I was forced to peer around his broad shoulder. As Keldorn had warned, there were more undead inside the temple, more of Bhaal's faithful. Skeletal undead awaited us in a rough half circle, with their weapons in their hands. One of these skeletons stood by the unholy altar, still wearing the tatters of a clerical robe. This priest gave me a grin when we picked our way toward him. Or maybe that was a frown, hard to read expressions on a skull.

"I feel the taint of the Master," it said. "The taint must be returned to our Lord Bhaal. Others may have forsaken their duty but we have not. Kill her, in Bhaal's name!"

"Hey," Imoen shouted. "Leave us alone. Bhaal's dead, you're dead, just move on with your afterlife already!"

Good advice but they didn't take it. Too bad for us, for these were no ordinary mindless skeletons. One threw up a mage's defenses and began to rain spells on us. Even the warriors, instead of attacking the nearest target, moved together as a team and massed a concerted assault upon Keldorn. They feared him the worse, him and his holy sword Carsomyr. Me, I felt my sword was having little effect and I swapped to the Ice Star, the morning star I'd taken from Gromnir Il-Khan's corpse. It crunched through bone quite nicely. I destroyed the two skeletal warriors that had flanked Keldorn, but to my alarm, he sank to his knees before me.

"Poison," he gasped. I saw the thin throwing knives lodged in his armor. At least one must have penetrated a gap or joint. "I have an antidote," he said. "See to that mage."

The mage standing right before me, casting something? Right. I threw myself at it, hoping to dodge whatever spell it was chanting. We went down in a heap. A huge earth elemental began to pull itself out of the ground beside me but I didn't wait for its help. I reared back, and with a two handed grip on my weapon, smashed down with all I had. Its skull exploded. A shard cut my cheek. Then something smashed into the middle of my back, sending me sprawling over the mage's bones. Knocked the wind right out of me. And I realized the elemental was one of theirs, not one of ours. Great. The skeletons were summoning help. That just didn't seem right. The huge feet lumbered my way—stomp, stomp, stomp—and the creature leaned over me. I tried to catch my breath so I could scream or curse or something. It had no eyes, no face, but it certainly had arms. One huge hand reached down for me and suddenly Sarevok was between us. He grimaced with effort and his sword sheared through the creature's elbow. The whole arm fell to the ground with a thud. I took a great shuddering breath at last, then another, and then I tightened my grip on my morning star and rolled to my feet before it could stomp me. Between us, we turned it into topsoil.

I looked around. Imoen and the priest were in some kind of casting battle. Jaheira had crouched beside Keldorn but her head was up, scanning for hidden opponents. Sarevok and I raced toward the priest, who now stood behind the broken altar. Tiny flames danced in its empty eye sockets. It spoke the words of a spell—evil words, sickening words, words that burned me, that stopped me, that made me scream out in pain and horror. He smote me.

But Sarevok never faltered. He leapt over the altar and his sword smashed through the creature's neck. His head went flying like a child's ball and its body collapsed into fragments and dust. We had won.


	12. The Witch of the Glade

**Ch. 12…The Witch of the Glade**

"It is premature to cavort about" Sarevok told Imoen. "We may have defeated these undead but we are no closer to accomplishing the task that brought us here."

"You know nothing of cavorting if you think that's what I'm doing," Imoen replied. "I'm just happy we're alive. Loosen up, Sarevok, and try to smile every ten-day or so. Do you want your face to get stuck that way?" She turned to me. "I think it's too late," she stage-whispered.

Jaheira didn't smile either. She had removed Keldorn's gauntlets so she could feel his pulse. His eyes were still closed and his face was the color of dirty wax.

"He should wake soon," she said. "We need to go somewhere safe so he can rest." Rest sounded good to me too.

"We should search this temple before we retreat," Sarevok said. "That is our purpose for being here, after all."

"Well, I don't see how this place can have anything to do with Yaga-Shura," Imoen said. "Doesn't look like anyone alive has been here in forever. And I don't much like the thought of cavorting up those stairs, do you? Looks like a hard breeze would send them crashing down on top of us." There were two staircases that led to the upper gallery and one had already collapsed. It looked like its twin would follow at any moment.

"Don't you have a spell?" I asked. "That floating eyeball thingy? Can't you send it up there to scout around?"

"I'm about tapped out of spells right now, sis."

I stretched my back and walked closer to the staircase. "Maybe it's stronger than it looks. If a giant has been living here, it would have to be."

"Maybe it isn't," Imoen said. "Send Sarevok up first. He's heavier. Hey, don't give me that look," she told him. "We all know you're going to push your way to the front anyway, you being so much more competent than anyone else in the Realms."

"Do we know that Yaga-Shura ever lived here?" Sarevok asked.

"Melissan said he'd been raised here," I said. But I looked around and I shared his doubts.

"How did Melissan learn of this place?"

"She didn't say."

"There is much she didn't say," he said darkly. "She gave us precise directions to a temple long destroyed, yet she gave no warning of the dangers within." I understood his suspicions but why would she send us on a pointless mission when Saradush was in danger? She must have believed we would discover something of use here.

"She wasn't certain if we would discover Yaga-Shura's secret here or in his fortress in the mountains," I said.

A high-pitched cackle behind me had both of us whirling, hands on our hilts. An old woman had appeared out of the darkness, and her eyes glittered in Imoen's magelight.

"Nyalee knows Yaga-Shura's secrets," she said. She wore a simple robe and her gray hair lay in a messy braid down to the middle of her back. She carried no weapon that I could see. That didn't reassure me much. An unarmed old lady in this dangerous forest? Right. She stared at me and came closer. She was barefoot. Small, too, not even as tall as Jaheira. The top of her head didn't reach my shoulder.

"You have come! Come, you have! The woodsies told Nyalee of a great battle in the Master's house. Nyalee comes to see for herself. Nyalee sees the powerful one who is the spawn of the dead master! Nyalee knew you would come, she did!"

This would be a good time to have Keldorn up, for he could see evil with a glance. Jaheira stood protectively before him. She bristled like a cat that has been surprised by its reflection in a mirror. That didn't reassure me much either.

"Who is Nyalee?" I asked.

"All alone is Nyalee, all alone here in the Master's house." She laughed again, a mad laugh that chilled me.

"I think it's her," Imoen whispered.

"You are Nyalee?" I asked.

"The Witch of the Glade they call me, but Nyalee, yes, Nyalee is I. Answer all your questions, Nyalee will! Oh, yes! Nyalee has been waiting for you, and she knows why you come, she does!" Although her hair was gray and her voice quavered with age, her skin was unlined. She seemed a curious mix of age and youth, and in her eyes I saw madness.

Great.

"It is the boy," she said. "That traitorous fool of a half-giant boy of mine. You come because of Yaga-Shura! My boy has been a pain for you and I both, and you wish his blood, yes?"

"Yaga-Shura is your son?" I asked skeptically.

"Nay, the boy did not spring from Nyalee's loins. Nyalee did see him for the spawn-child he was while but a babe and stole him from the crib. Raise him here in this temple as her own did she."

So Melissan was right. Yaga-Shura had been raised here. I wondered how she had known that. "Yet you will help me against him? Why?"

Her face contorted with rage.

"Because a betrayer is the boy! Did Nyalee not raise the boy? Did Nyalee not teach the boy the old tricks, yes? And the boy did leave Nyalee here to rot with the undead that haunt this place! Steals her heart, even!"

"Tell us how to kill him," Sarevok growled.

"That Nyalee will do." She laughed again. "The traitorous boy will not even see it coming, oh no! Nyalee will haves her revenge! Listen closely, then, spawn-child. Once, a cleric of Bhaal was Nyalee! But then great Bhaal is dead, and Nyalee is forced to turn to the older arts to survive. Nyalee steals the spawn-child Yaga-Shura to raise in this temple, did she."

"Why did you do that?" I asked. She came very close and smiled up into my eyes. Her eyes were green like spring grass.

"A new Lord of Murder did Nyalee hope to create," she whispered. "Foolish old Nyalee. Teaches the boy the old tricks did she. You cannot kill him with that shiny blade you carry, oh no. You cannot kill Nyalee either. Protected, we are. The old tricks, very powerful they are. But foolish old Nyalee can help you, yes, Nyalee can help."

"Tell us what we need to know," Sarevok said. She laughed and stood before him, looking like a child against his height.

"Poor spawn-child, Nyalee sees what you were," she crooned to him. "So like that traitorous boy of mine. Nyalee sees it. Where is your power now, spawn-child? What have you done to your heart?" She laughed again and put her hand on his face. Sarevok flinched away. "Too late for you, it is, Nyalee sees."

Then she turned to Imoen. "And you, little pretty. Naught but a single drop of the Master's blood did you hold, but see how it grows, oh yes, how it grows in the sweet darkness. Such a lovely shadow on your heart. Nyalee sees it, she does." She came back to me and took my left hand between her two tiny palms. "Nyalee will help you, yes, she will. But first, there is something you must do for old Nyalee."

"Be careful, Keeta," Imoen said in a scared voice. The witch laughed.

"Nyalee will not harm the spawn-child, no, no. Nyalee asks a small thing, a very small thing."

"How can I help you?" I asked. She took my hand again and stroked my wrist.

"Nyalee has been alone, so alone here in the Master's house. Nyalee wishes to feel your heart." I stared down at her.

"My heart? But Nyalee, it is inside me. You can't feel it."

"Foolish spawn-child, Nyalee knows where your heart is." She laughed merrily. "Nyalee knows about hearts, yes she does, oh yes." She rapped her knuckles on my leather armor. "Told you I would not harm you, I did. Nyalee will feels your heart, she will."

Imoen frowned and Sarevok shook his head at me but it seemed harmless enough. She smiled up at me. Her teeth were very tiny, like gray pearls in her mouth. She spread her fingers across my breast and her eyes closed to slits. She laughed yet again. At first, I was just embarrassed—was she trying to grope me through my armor? But then I felt the stir of magic. Her hand didn't move but I felt motion _underneath_ her hand, as ghostly fingers sank into my flesh, deeper and deeper. I gasped.

"A strong heart," Nyalee whispered. I swayed on my feet and she pulled me down to my knees, moving with me. She was stronger than she looked. "A fierce heart." Her hands moved to my back, perhaps to steady me, and she put her head on my chest, as if to listen to my heartbeat. Could she hear it through my armor? It was surely beating hard enough, for I felt my pulse thundering in my ears. I knew her hands were still on my back. I could feel them there. And yet I also felt the ghostly fingers stroking inside my chest.

"Many secrets, knows Nyalee. Secrets of the Master, secrets of the old ways. Nyalee could whisper these secrets to such a heart as this, she could." My stomach clenched and heaved. I hoped I wasn't going to throw up. "Much could I teach you, spawn-child. Kill that traitorous boy of mine, you must. Return here to Nyalee."

"How do I kill him?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"The boy has removed his heart. He will keep it bathed in magical flames. While his heart burns, no harm may come to Yaga-Shura. No death may come until his heart is quenched."

"How do I quench his heart?"

"Only Nyalee knows the words and the arts to extinguish the boy's heart, she does. But Nyalee needs her own heart to use the art. The boy stole her heart years ago. Keeps it, he does." She took my hand and placed it over her own heart. I tried to feel her heartbeat and could not. I stared down at her. Her eyes were bright.

"Finds Nyalee's heart and Yaga-Shura's heart both, spawn-child," she said fiercely. "He keeps them in his stronghold deep in the mountains. You knows where this place is?"

"I think so," I said.

"Your blood will lead the way." Maybe so, but I was putting my hope on my maps. "Gets the hearts. Brings them both to Nyalee. Nyalee will quench his heart forever, then! So surprised, so shocked will he be!" She laughed and laughed and she rubbed her face against my breast, where my heart lay, beating wildly.


	13. Clean Living

**Ch. 13…Clean Living**

I waited until Nyalee walked off into the darkness before I ported us back to the pocket plane. She may have had her 'woodsies', whatever they were, watching us. Maybe it didn't matter. Keldorn, swaying and groggy, was at least on his feet by then. Sarevok and I helped him to his room and got him out of his armor. I knew Keldorn wasn't a young man but I hadn't thought of him as old until I saw his face, pale and worn, lit by the magic lamps that Cespenar had created for all the rooms.

"Get some rest," I said.

I fancied he cast a longing look at his bed but he said, "I must see to my gear first."

"Cespenar will do it," I said.

"I prefer to see to this myself." Of course he would. His room was stark except for the pile of armor Sarevok and I had scattered on the floor.

"I'm afraid to touch your sword," I said, "But let me help you with the rest of this." It was a measure of his weariness that he accepted without protest. His supply kit was almost identical to the one Anomen carried, I noticed with a flash of pain. I grabbed a rag and started wiping down his armor. I'd had Cespenar build armor stands for us warriors. That had been Anomen's idea. He was every bit as neat and organized as Keldorn. I wondered if he had always been that way or if it was something the Order of the Radiant Heart drilled into its members.

I glanced at Sarevok, who lurked in silence in the doorway. He looked tired too but after a palpable hesitation, he picked up another rag and helped me clean the gunk off Keldorn's armor. The boots were the worst but we finally did a credible job. My boots were just as bad but Cespenar was certainly going to get the honor of scrubbing them, and the rest of my gear as well. I was no holy warrior and I didn't care if any of my stuff passed under imp hands, as long as it came back clean.

"You have my thanks," Keldorn said. Sarevok followed me through the corridor, his boots clumping loudly. He usually moved more silently; he was weary too.

"You're following me for a reason?" I asked.

"I would have a word with you."

Great. "Well, come on. I've got to get out of these reeking boots." We stopped outside my room and I worked my feet out of the boots and dropped them on the floor. "If you're going to yell at me for something, be advised that I will yell back," I told him. I peeled off my tunic and let it fall next to the boots.

"I will keep that in mind."

"Need any help getting out of that gear?" I asked. He hesitated then nodded. We spent a couple of busy moments with straps and such.

"Dump it all here," I said and then I hollered for Cespenar. He popped out of nowhere, way too close. "Stop sneaking and spying," I told him. "And get all this stuff cleaned up."

He bobbed in the air, and his wings whirred like a bumblebee. "Cespenar does not sneak and spy. Cespenar toils night and day to obey the Master."

Was that sarcasm? I got it from everyone. "Great, just get to toiling, I need it first thing in the morning."

"First thing, yes, Master."

"Come back for my pants later." I'd be damned if I was going to strip to my underwear in front of Sarevok. The imp picked up my boots, and with a show of mighty effort, flew off with them to his hidden sanctum. I wasn't impressed. I knew he had magic to whisk everything away. He'd wait until I wasn't looking.

Sarevok had dropped his arming coat on the pile and when he turned, I saw a bloodstain on the back of his shirt.

"Are you injured?" I asked.

He flexed his back. "Bruised, from where the elemental struck me. Nothing serious."

"That's more than just a bruise if it's bleeding," I said. "Better let me take a look." He followed me into my room. While I rummaged for the healing kit Anomen had made for me, he looked around in curiosity. The contrast between my room and Keldorn's couldn't have been greater. It's not that I'm such a slob, although I've certainly never been accused of excessive neatness. It's more that I am a pack rat. My dresser was crowded with magical figurines, hand-crafted in Suldanessellar, a pommel jewel I hoped to find a use for one day, and a seashell I'd picked up on the beach near Spellhold. It had no power other than its beauty. Sometimes I held it to my ear, to remember the ocean. The corners of the room were jammed with mismatched bits of armor and interesting weapons that I planned to master some day. I had three different armor stands. Anomen's was empty now.

Sarevok took off his shirt and turned so I could see the wound. He'd been hit hard enough to split the skin over his shoulder.

"We ought to look at your armor," I said as I cleaned the cut and rubbed in a healing salve. It probably stung but he made no complaint. "It should have protected you better than this. Something's still not fitting quite right." He grunted. His back was thick with muscle and marked by old faint scars. "What's with the scars? I've been meaning to ask you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, here you are, resurrected in a fresh new body, right? So why these old scars? Shouldn't they be gone?"

"They are a part of me, I suppose."

"A part of the past, maybe. But you're starting over, why not let all that go?"

"Are we ever free from our past? Perhaps I carry them as a reminder of that which I should not forget." He shrugged his shirt back on and I motioned for us to sit at my little table.

I frowned. "Some scars we carry with us, whether they show or not." My mind shied away from a sudden memory of Jon Irenicus. "New beginnings are better."

"Is that a teaching of Lathander?"

"Yes."

"And you follow Him, pray to Him. Why Lathander?"

"Why? He suits me, I suppose."

"It seems a strange choice for one who grew up in Candlekeep."

"I don't think anyone expected me to give more than lip service to Oghma, not even the stuffy old priest who gave me my lessons. It won't shock you to learn I was no scholar." He smiled. "I guess you'd say I wasted all my opportunities, living in the great library. It was never for me. I know I was a disappointment to Gorion." I shrugged. "But I was always athletic and far too restless to sit with my books. Ulraunt said I needed to be horsewhipped to keep me out of the barracks but I was always sneaking off. He and the other monks tried to beat some learning into me without much success."

"You were whipped?"

"Oh, not literally. Gorion wasn't big on that sort of thing. Tongue-lashings were all I got, that and chores. Endless chores." I hesitated. "Those marks on your back—they're not from a whip, surely?" Proud Sarevok, whipped like a dog?

"As a child, I was frequently chastised. Unlike your guardian, Rieltar _was_ big on that sort of thing."

"Chastised with a whip? Hard enough to leave scars?" I shook my head. "I got chastised a lot too. Sent to my room. Forced to scrub privies. That was horrible. You'd think those old monks would be fastidious—well, let me assure you, they are not. Gorion caught me telling a lie once and made me write an essay on honor. Three pages in my best handwriting. The ordeal is still fresh in my mind after all these years. Imoen wouldn't help me either. And she lied all the time."

Sarevok gave me one of his enigmatic smiles.

"I was never punished for telling a lie. I did other things. It did not matter much to Rieltar what I did. Sometimes he just wished to remind me who had the power in our relationship, if I showed signs of forgetting."

"How monstrous."

"He knew I was a Bhaalspawn, of course, that is why he took me in. He had plans for my power but they were dependent on breaking me to his will. I allowed him to believe he had done so." He hesitated. "Gorion and his Harper kin had plans for your power, no doubt. Do you know what they were?"

"I—what do you mean?"

"You were taken from one of the temples—surely there was some purpose behind that."

"No—it wasn't like that. It couldn't have been."

"I know you were kept in ignorance of what you are but surely now, looking back, you can see some pattern. Why did Gorion take you? Surely you don't believe you were saved out of pity alone."

"If you knew Gorion, you wouldn't say that."

"I did meet him, you know, on several occasions. He was a man of subtlety. And he was a Harper, and they have always meddled in the affairs of kings. Gods, too, I suppose."

"Well, I wasn't raised to be anything. He let me go my own way. He didn't want me to be a warrior, that's true, but really, what else am I suited for? I was never clever like Imoen. He just wanted me to be a good person, I think."

"There had to be more than that."

"Why? Go probe Jaheira, if you think she will tell you anything about the Harpers. Does it really matter now?"

"Have you no curiosity?"

"About the past? Not really. What's the point of poking into things I can't change?"

"Do you see no merit in learning from your past? You travel with a Harper even now, after all. Would it not be good to know if they still have plans for you?"

"Jaheira would never hurt me." Well, not unless I turned into some power crazy maniac. I kind of hoped that wouldn't happen. "And to get back to your earlier question, do you see why I'm drawn to Lathander? Every day has a new dawn, every day is a new beginning. I'm thankful for that." Sarevok gave me a dissatisfied look. Time for a subject change. "You had something to say to me. Was that it or was there something else?"

"Yes," he said and I saw the mental gears shift. "I assume we will perform the witch's task to annul Yaga-Shura's invulnerability."

"We march tomorrow," I said. "Unless you have a better idea."

"You do plan to kill Yaga-Shura."

"After what he's done? Absolutely. Do you know any other way to save the people of Saradush?"

"You do not plan to negotiate with him."

"Do you think I should try? I haven't had much luck negotiating with Bhaalspawn. Gromnir wouldn't listen. Neither would that bounty hunter who ambushed us outside Suldanessellar. Neither did you, back in Baldur's Gate, if you recall."

"No, you must slay Yaga-Shura. I wanted to be certain you knew that." He tented his fingers and looked across the table at me. "Who was this bounty hunter? A Bhaalspawn?"

"So she said. Her name was Illasera. She bragged about killing a lot of other Bhaalspawn but she went down pretty quick to my blade."

"You slew Illasera the Quick?"

"That's what she called herself. She ended up Illasera the Dead, ha ha. Don't tell me you knew her."

"Only by hearsay. I hadn't gone up against her yet but it was just a matter of time. We are driven to seek each other out, you know."

"I'm not."

"You—I don't understand you at all. Do you not know your place in the prophecy? What is your plan? Surely it is more than aimless wandering."

"I don't aimlessly wander," I said. "Mostly I'm chased." He didn't laugh. "You don't need to look so exasperated. I pulled your butt out of the Abyss, I ended up in Saradush, just like you said I had to. Do I need to study the prophecies? Do I need to have a plan for things to happen this way? They just happen all by themselves."

"You are content to allow fate to push you around?"

"You act like I have a choice."

"You do, fool! You must be prepared."

"That's what the Solar said—I wasn't ready yet, but she would make sure I was prepared when the time came. So there you go. Problem solved."

Sarevok leaned forward. "The Solar? What Solar!"

"The Solar that brought me to this plane after I killed Illasera. You didn't see her? I thought maybe she brought you here too."

"You just now tell me of this? Was she sent by the gods? Which one? What did she say to you?"

"Anomen thought she came from Ao Himself. She said the same kind of stuff you do, except she wasn't so pissy about it. She mentioned Alaundo's prophecies, said the time was coming. She said she would educate me, that I wasn't ready for the power. And that's about it. At least she didn't talk in poetry like those annoying stone heads Queen Ellesime made us go listen to."

"Stone heads? What tale is this?"

"Ellesime sent us to an elven shrine deep in the forest outside Suldanessellar. There were these huge carved stone heads, and they talked! You should have seen them. But it was just the usual vague warnings about tainted blood and approaching storms. I wasn't really listening, to be honest. It was poetry!"

"I could shake you, I really could. You received a new prophecy—and you don't remember it? You didn't even listen?"

"Don't give me that look. I get enough of that from Jaheira. Imoen probably remembers it. I'll get her to write it down."

"Why can't I get you to take this seriously? What do you think this is about? Alaundo's prophecy is not some meaningless poem a schoolgirl was forced to memorize. This is your destiny at stake! The time has come for Bhaal's power to be grasped—to be used! I have the knowledge to help you gather this power but yours must be the will to wield it. And you care nothing for it?"

"I'm not here to gather Bhaal's power. I've never wanted to be a god."

"If you do not seize it, you will be murdered for the taint you hold. The prophecy—"

"Don't you get it? I'm not here to fulfill the prophecy. I'm here to break it." Sarevok went totally still. "I'm good at breaking things," I added.

"You delude yourself if you think that possible," he said at last.

"Maybe I do. Maybe Yaga-Shura will eat my heart. Even the Solar said she could not see my destiny. But you wanted me to have a plan. Well, that's my plan."

"That is no plan. That is a fantasy."

"Nothing makes you happy, does it? Just because you don't like my plan, doesn't mean it won't work. You have a better idea? Let's hear it."

"You must seek out the other Bhaalspawn and kill them."

"As far as I can tell, they'll all be coming after me anyway. So I can just wait for them to show up, right? If they need killing, I'll kill them then."

"How in the Nine Hells have you survived this long?"

"Clean living or dumb luck, take your pick."

He rubbed his eyes in exasperation. "I do not know what to believe anymore."

I rose and stretched a little. My bed was looking mighty tempting. So I gave Sarevok a hand to pull him to his feet. He looked down at me—I still wasn't used to his height, so few men could look down at me—and there was a rueful smile in his eyes.

"Clean living does not sound particularly appealing," he said. His hand tightened a bit on mine.

"I know. I've always wanted to try riotous living but I've never really had that many opportunities."

"I suppose you haven't, the way you were raised." His lips curved up. "I could tutor you."

"I bet." And at that moment, as we stood close together with his hand wrapped warm around mine, the thought flashed across my mind that we were a man and a woman alone together in a bedroom.

I swept that thought away with a mental broom and shooed him out the door.


	14. Marching Mountains

**Ch. 14…Marching Mountains**

"Not a tree, not a shrub, not a living blade of grass," Jaheira said. "This is a desolate wasteland you lead us through."

It had taken us several days of hard travel to pass from the swamps to the bleak Marching Mountains. Yaga-Shura's fortress stood high before us, built into the side of the mountain, overlooking an active volcano. Fiery lava flowed in red and orange streaks on the flanks of the mountain and the air was hot and heavy with noxious fumes. Sweat dripped down my face and burned my eyes and soaked the arming coat I wore under my plate. At least we had a breeze, if a hot gritty wind counted as refreshment.

Jaheira coughed. I handed her my water skin but she waved it away. "It will take more than stale water to cleanse the stench of this place."

The path was just wide enough for a wagon, although no wagon would make it up this grade. We straggled upward in a ragged line, with Sarevok in the lead and Keldorn and Imoen in the rear. Imoen had tied a wet cloth over her nose and mouth. I couldn't hear their conversation but I could see Imoen gesture with her hands as she talked while Keldorn bent his head with grave attention. I wondered if it was a continuation of our breakfast conversation. Imoen had bemoaned Anomen's absence yet again. She hadn't known him as long as the rest of us and I hadn't realized just how close they had become.

"You know that Helm called him away," Keldorn had said.

"He should be here!" she said. "We need him. I miss him." Imoen looked at me. "We all do." I looked away. "How could Helm do this to us?"

"We should trust the benevolent gods," Keldorn said gently. "We may not understand the plans they have for us but we must trust that their plans are for the ultimate good. Anomen's faith held strong, Imoen. So should yours."

That was when I left the room, breakfast half finished. Sarevok followed, and we helped each other with our armor in blessed silence.

Despite the heat, Sarevok moved easily up the steep grade with his long, tireless stride. I could feel the eagerness in him. He knew we moved toward battle. I could feel it too. As if sensing my attention, he turned to look at me, and then waited for me to catch up.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"The bulk of Yaga-Shura's forces may be concentrated at Saradush, but judging by the tracks on this path, this fortress is by no means deserted."

"That would be too easy."

"We should also assume they have a sentry posted. We may have been spotted already. We could wait for nightfall."

"I would not care to risk this path in the dark," I said. One misstep could lead to a long slide down into a hot pool of boiling rock. That was not how I wanted to end my Bhaalspawn career.

"I agree. That eliminates stealth as an option however."

"I don't think stealth was ever an option. If we want those hearts, I expect we will have to fight for them." Our eyes met and I could see we were both satisfied with that. I felt no mercy for these giants, not after the atrocities we'd seen in the lands around Saradush.

The others caught up to us and I suggested a short rest. No one argued. We spread out, each seeking a scrap of shade. Sarevok sat down on a convenient rock and I joined him. I took a big drink of water, and then pulled off one gauntlet so I could dig around in my belt pouch.

"I meant to give you this earlier," I said. "Take off your gauntlet and put this on." I handed him my ring of fire resistance. He studied it a minute, and recognized it for what it was.

"You need this protection for yourself," he said.

"Take it."

"Is this a gift for services rendered or a down-payment on future needs?"

"I'm not a merchant, Sarevok. I figured you're going to need it, especially if you keep running in front of me and poaching my kills." Sarevok's hand was so large that he had to wear the ring on his pinky. He pulled his gauntlet back on over the ring and didn't respond to my provocative look. "Or you might think of it as payback, if you must balance your books, Sembian. You gave me an enchanted ring once," I said. "Back in Candlekeep, when you were pretending to be the monk Koveras."

"I recall."

"Nice name by the way."

"What can I say? I was young."

"I always wondered why you gave it to me."

"Perhaps I shall tell you some day."

"Why not now?"

"Because we need to get moving."

Sarevok and his mysteries, would I ever get to the end of them? I put my hand on his shoulder and used him to lever myself to my feet. I caught Jaheira watching us. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth was set in a grim line. What had I done now?

* * *

We toiled up the mountain and the fortress loomed larger and larger.

"Sure looks fancy," Imoen said. Marble gleamed in the late afternoon sun, and gold inlay flashed and caught the eye.

"Yes, it does. How strange," I said. Sarevok, well in the lead, suddenly stopped, then signaled us to be wary. I heard the thud of heavy steps from the trail above us.

"At least they can't sneak up on us," Imoen said. She sounded a little scared. I drew my sword and moved closer to Sarevok. I heard Keldorn give Imoen some quiet advice.

"Remember to stay well back. Giants have a long reach. The ice spells you prepared will be useful. Use your summoning spells as well. These creatures are large, but they will fall to our weapons, if the gods be with us."

Two giants came lumbering down the path. They wore plate armor and their breastplates were embellished with the symbol of a hammer wreathed in flames. It was certainly not the hammer and scales of Tyr. One of them hailed Sarevok.

"What business do you have in the Sacred Temple, manlings?"

A temple? Had Melissan called this place a temple? I couldn't recall but maybe that explained the marble. "To whom is this temple dedicated?" I asked.

"Infidels! Know that Yaga-Shura is the master here. What brings you to this place?" He peered down to look at me. "You! Bhaalspawn, have you come to learn my master's secrets?" They both brandished their hammers and charged. Any giant is intimidating, but to have them come thundering down upon you like an avalanche—that was not a charge I wanted to meet head on. I ran away and hid behind a boulder.

The closest giant passed my hiding spot, stopped, looked around for me. "Come out, little manling," he called. My hand was on my sword hilt but all that thick armor made me reconsider. Anomen had always told me to use blunt weapons against armored foes. Although my Silver Sword had an uncanny ability to find gaps in armor, its longer reach might be almost a disservice now, with the giant's reach so much greater than mine. I might be better off getting in real close and avoid those sweeping hammer swings.

The minute I had the Ice Star in my hands, I felt cooler. The morning star's spikes glittered with magical frost. The giant passed me, thumping rocks with his hammer and making such a racket that he wouldn't have heard an army approach. He wore one of those closed helms that obscured his side vision, so it was child's play to slip behind him. Like the giant at the farm, his leg armor was skimpy in the back. He bellowed like an angry bull when I smashed my spiked weapon into his calf. (Bull, calf, I was pretty sure there was a pun in there somewhere, I'd work it out later and tell Imoen.)

I skipped away behind another huge boulder—they were everywhere, and blocked my view so I couldn't see the other giant. I heard him holler so I figured the others were keeping him busy. My giant limped after me. His head swiveled from side to side. I still had some invisibility potions but I hardly needed them when he was half blinded by his own helm. I darted in and out, got in some good blows before he finally backed up against the cliff side. Blood ran down his legs, hot steaming blood with a smell like an overworked smithy. He gave an anxious look around and didn't see me. He bent down to adjust his broken greave and that brought his head within my reach. I drove the star into his face hard enough to break teeth, hard enough to drive the edge of his helmet deep into his flesh.

The giant screamed. Both hands went to his ruined face. He dropped his hammer, the fool. And I was all over him. My heart pounded with exhilaration. There is nothing, and I mean nothing quite as satisfying as slaying an enemy twice your size.

I ran over to the others. The second giant batted at his face with one huge hand, trying to brush away the swarms of biting, stinging insects that massed there, called by Jaheira's spell. He held his hammer in a one-handed grip and swatted at Sarevok, but couldn't see well enough or move quickly enough to hit him. Sarevok hacked at his right knee. The giant's leg collapsed. He fell slowly, like a tree felled by axes, with his arms flailing the air for balance. Sarevok and Keldorn rushed in and finished him off.

"That wasn't so bad," Imoen said and then her eyes opened wide. I looked behind me. The temple doors had been flung wide open and more giants came pouring out. A lot more. A half dozen of them. Bright Lathander.

We survived. They didn't. Jaheira summoned a couple of earth elementals, who gave the giants a fairly good thumping and a great big distraction. Imoen's spells stunned them, blinded them, confused them, and she peppered them with arrows, as well, biting arrows that poisoned when they hit. Sarevok, and Keldorn hacked away with their swords. We killed them all.

Night fell quickly here in the mountains and it seemed like one moment, we stood in the orange light of the setting sun, and the next moment, we were surrounded by darkness, lit only by the cascade of burning rock along the mountainside. Imoen cast a light upon her staff so we could see each other.

"Should we press on into the temple or rest for the night?" I asked. "How is everyone feeling?"

"It has been a long day," Keldorn said. He looked at Imoen as he said it. She looked exhausted. I moved toward her and my leg buckled under me. Sarevok caught me by the elbow and hauled me back against his chest before I could fall. Our breastplates clashed together. Imoen brought her glowing staff closer. There was a big dent in my left greave where I vaguely remembered getting kicked by a giant. My leg didn't really hurt though.

"That's a lot of blood on your boot," Imoen said.

"Not mine."

"Actually, I think it is," she said. "You better take us home before you pass out."

I wasn't sure I wanted to think of the cocoon plane as home, but I activated the portal magic that took us there. Sarevok laid me on the floor and he and Jaheira eased off the greave and my boot. Apparently the force of the giant's kick had been enough to split my skin open in a couple of places. There were bruises, of course. The wound was bloody and messy but not dangerous. A quick healing took care of it. Sarevok helped me to my feet.

"The nice thing about this," I said, "Is that whoever is left defending the temple can spend all night watching and waiting for us and we can get a good night's sleep in perfect safety. In the morning, we'll be fresh and they will be tired."

"They have all night to prepare for us," Sarevok said. "Traps. Reinforcements." I made a little face at him. Killjoy.

"I need a bath," Imoen said. "I really, really need a bath. And Keeta?"

"What?"

"You need one a _lot_ more than I do."

* * *

Imoen had already established the fair and impartial rule that the women got first shot at the baths. Between Imoen and Cespenar, our bathing facilities had grown to fantastically palatial proportions. There was a deep basin carved into the rock and large enough for a dozen to soak away their aches. And behind this was a miniature waterfall that emptied into a pool, cool and crystal clear. Jaheira and Imoen helped me out of the rest of my gunky armor and I headed straight for the cool water.

I went to my room and drank the entire pitcher of water that Cespenar had left on my dresser. Then I wandered into the common room.

"Hey, where did that keg come from?" I asked. Cespenar buzzed by my elbow with his improbable wings keeping him close to eye level.

"Cespenar is very happy to serve the little Bhaalspawn, oh, yes!" I gave Imoen a look of mock reproof.

"You decided to open your own tavern?" Over time, the room had evolved to something approaching cozy. Jaheira lounged in a chair, with her feet up in another and a mug on the table within reach. She looked about as relaxed as I'd seen her since Suldanessellar. "But where does all this stuff come from?" Cespenar bounced over to the keg without answering me. I hoped that didn't mean this was cursed infernal ale. Well, hells, why not? I took the mug Cespenar offered me. Unlike the food he served, the ale was delicious.

"I forgot to tell you that I finished writing out the poem from the Spirits of the Forest, like you asked," Imoen said. "I think I remembered it all. Pretty close, anyway. I gave it to Sarevok. That's what you wanted, right?"

"Yes," I said. "He's more likely to understand it than any of us."

Jaheira made a skeptical noise, but when I raised my eyebrows in question, she just shook her head and picked up her mug.

"We need a dartboard," I said.

"We need a bard," Imoen replied. "Know any young, good-looking bards, Cespenar?"

"Oh, no, no, only the Master can bring other peoples here," he said. "You must ask the Master for your bard."

Imoen grinned at me.

"What do you say, Master?" she asked.

"She would have liked Haer'Dalis," Jaheira said with a laugh.

"Who's he?"

"A tiefling bard we traveled with a short time," I told Imoen. "We met him in Athkatla, while we were raising the money for passage to Spellhold. He was a man with a roving eye, who would never be quite satisfied with anyone who would have him, or so I judged. You remember Coran from Baldur's Gate? Haer'Dalis reminded me of him in some ways. More interested in the pursuit than the capture."

"I seem to recall you liking Coran's company well enough," Jaheira said with a meaningful look. Imoen giggled.

"I did," I said and hoped I didn't blush. She had caught us kissing in the forest, and on more than one occasion. "He was the first man to ever show an interest in me. Still, I never let him catch me. I don't think that would have made either one of us very happy for very long."

"You know, Keeta," Imoen said. "Not all of us are looking for a lasting relationship. I wouldn't have minded being caught by Coran for awhile."

"Coran was the first man to pursue you? Were there no handsome young guards at Candlekeep?"

Imoen laughed at Jaheira's question. "Oh, Jaheira, it was awful. They were all old, like Keldorn, but without a tenth of his charm."

"It was a quiet place where soldiers came to retire," I explained. "And even if there had been any young men, do you think they would have risked Gorion's wrath to court me?"

"Was Gorion truly so strict?" Jaheira asked. "I would not have thought so. He was not known for being particularly, ahem, chaste."

"Yes," I said, "And no."

"And that means what?"

I wasn't sure how to explain, but Imoen jumped in.

"He watched her like a hawk. They all watched her and they whispered about her, all those old monks, like they were just waiting for her to do something terrible. At the time, it made no sense. I didn't get it. She was always so good. Compared to me, anyway."

"If they had told me from the beginning that I was a Bhaalspawn, I might have understood," I said. "For the longest time, I wondered—"

"What?" Jaheira asked softly.

"I wondered what was wrong with me, what it was that the others could see but I could not. I thought that if only I could work hard enough, pray hard enough, fight hard enough, be _good_ enough, I could make them stop looking at me that way." I laughed a little at my own childish folly. "Well, we all know how _that_ turned out."

"Why, Keeta," Jaheira exclaimed. "Gorion loved you very much. He was proud of you, too. I could tell from his letters how much you meant to him."

"I'm not faulting him," I said. "He may well have been right in withholding the truth of my heritage until I was older. Maybe I wasn't ready. I mean, look at Sarevok. He knew what he was, and did that knowledge aid him? I'd guess that the worst days of my childhood were better than the best days of his."

As if on cue, Sarevok entered the room. I wondered how long he had been listening. He had Imoen's notes in his hand. He set them on the table and went to the keg to serve himself a mug of ale. I was slightly grieved to see Jaheira sit up in her seat, all signs of relaxation gone. She didn't trust him and I wondered if she ever would.

"So was your childhood so bad?" Imoen asked him. She was in the mood to tease and I didn't know how Sarevok would take it. "Tell us a tale. You once said your dad bought you a concubine when you were young. Was she pretty?"

Sarevok joined us at the table. "She was pretty," he said and he sipped his drink. He gave her one of his enigmatic looks. "She was Rieltar's spy. Even then, he did not trust me."

"She spied on you?" she asked. "You knew about it?"

"It was obvious," he said. "Rieltar would never have gifted me something that didn't serve him as well. However, as time passed, he feared that she had grown attached to me. And I to her, perhaps. He questioned her loyalty. So one night—"

"Ooh, I'm not sure I want to hear this," Imoen said.

"Suit yourself," Sarevok said. The silence only lasted a moment or two. I could see that Sarevok, in his own way, could tease back.

"Okay, tell me," she said. "Damn you."

"One night, he came to my rooms, with three of his most trusted guards. They made me watch while they took her, one at a time, on my own bed."

"They took her?" Imoen asked. "You mean they raped her? Right in front of you?"

"You cannot rape a concubine," Sarevok said, as if it were an obvious truth. "She was a slave." The three of us stared at him in shocked disapproval. "When they finished, the guards carried her away. I never saw her again. Rieltar told me that she killed herself that night, out of shame. I knew he lied. He killed her. He gave me a new concubine a ten-day later, but I had learned my lesson well. I knew not to show her any favor. Nor did I give her any reason to become attached to me."

"I just had to ask. I knew I didn't want to hear it but I had to ask," Imoen said, and she stood up. "I'll be back later for dinner when I get my appetite back." Jaheira glared at him and followed her out. Sarevok gave me a look of inquiry.

"For one thing," I said, "As women, we have a broader definition of rape than you apparently do."

"I did not intend to offend," he said.

"Indeed, that is much of the offensiveness," I said. I pointed to his notes. "Do you make anything of that?"

"It raises questions and answers none."

I laughed. "How typical."

"Tell me, Keeta. Did Illasera die by your hand?"

"As I recall, she did."

"Did you feel anything when she died?"

"Other than relieved? Something special, you mean?" He nodded. "No, I don't think so. But then the Solar snatched us up into the Abyss, and that was pretty much all I was thinking about." I leaned over his shoulder to look at Imoen's words. "'Bhaal's servant deceived, Five led down a false path'—so who do you think is Bhaal's servant?"

"I do not know."

"It couldn't be the Solar. Keldorn would have known if she was evil. You don't think it means Cespenar?"

Sarevok blinked at me. "The imp is your servant now," he said.

"Or Imoen's." I looked around the common room that she and Cespenar had built.

"The imp is not a player in this game."

"Just an idea. You don't suppose it means you?"

Sarevok scowled. "I have never served Bhaal."

"Only yourself." I meant to say that in a teasing way but it came out sharp. The look he gave me in return was more resigned than angry.

"How I weary of being the gods' plaything," he said. "Even death didn't free me from their schemes. And now I serve you. Like Cespenar does," he added.

"There are worse things than service to a righteous cause."

"Do I hear Sir Anomen's influence? Do you consider yourself a righteous cause?"

"Not me, but what I'm trying to do. I try to do right. I don't always succeed." I sighed. "I kill a lot of people. Maybe I'm kidding myself."

"The path you walk is a bloody one. No gentle soul could survive it."

"I tell myself things like that. Sometimes it makes me feel better. The truth is I want to live, just like you do. The only way I can live is if others die. I tell myself they deserve it. I don't think that's really being righteous though."

"Self-righteous, perhaps."

"Yeah." I sighed. "This whole Bhaalspawn war—it's not very nice, what's been done to us, you know?"

Sarevok laughed, a real laugh, not the snide one I usually got. "No, Keeta. It's not very nice."


	15. Temple of Fire

**Ch. 15…Temple of Fire**

The giants' bodies still lay on the mountain path where they had fallen the previous day.

"Why would they leave their comrades here, with no burial rites?" Keldorn asked.

"They feared we lay in ambush," Sarevok said.

"Wouldn't it be nice if they deserted the place last night," I said.

"Not if they have carried off what we seek," he replied. Spoilsport. The front doors were huge and heavy. Also locked and barred so presumably the giants were still inside. But we had a mage and we improvised some pry bars and soon enough we forced one door open wide enough for us to slip in.

Gods. Was this a temple? It felt like we'd stepped into a massive hellish smithy. A fancy smithy, though, for the floors and walls were marble, highly polished to reflect the fire that was everywhere. The heat alone was enough to fell an armored warrior. Gratings were set in the floor, built to carry a giant's weight, and far beneath them, the liquid rock coursed like a bright burning river. Who would build a temple into the side of an active volcano? Fire giants, I guess. I could not tell the source of the mighty gusts of wind that roared through the building, setting the magical flames in the braziers to dance so violently, but it was only that fresh air that made the heat bearable.

But where were the giants? Nyalee had said Yaga-Shura kept his heart bathed in magical flames, well, there were flames everywhere. The entryway and the two chambers on either side were empty except for a few clumsy traps that Imoen cleared. A huge central stairway seemed to follow the grade of the mountainside, rising up and up. We climbed. And we killed everything that stood against us. Armored giants with their heavy hammers. Acolytes who summoned fire salamanders and other creatures out of the flowing lava. Imoen and Jaheira had spells to protect us from fire, and that was a good, good thing.

The heat, the glare, the need to press upward—all these combined to put me in an almost hypnotic state. The Ice Star felt good in my hand, everything felt good and right. These creatures we fought might be huge and mighty but I had no doubt whatsoever that they would all fall before us. I could feel strength flow through my body and into my weapon. Fighting, at its best, is a kind of dance—a dance between willing partners; a dance that ends in death. I could hear the music in the fibers of my being. I took wounds; I was not invincible, but I knew victory strode beside me. My enemies could see this knowledge and it took the heart out of them. Minsc told me of this once. I think the Rashemen have a name for this, a battle frenzy they say is a gift from the gods.

Of course, Minsc was crazy.

Still, I was feeling pretty good until, in a lull, Sarevok pinned me against a wall. He thrust my water skin into my hand.

"Rest for a moment," he said. He glared at me.

"I am fine," I said, but with the water skin heavy in my hand, I realized I was thirsty. I drank until the skin was empty.

"What possesses you, Keeta? Have you lost your wits? You fight like you court death. Control yourself!"

"Funny words, coming from one of the mighty Deathbringers," I said.

"Fool! A Deathbringer casts fear upon his foes, not his allies." He took back his water skin. "I cannot protect you if you keep running on ahead."

"Who asked you to?"His eyes flared in anger and he gave me enough of a shove that my back plate clanked against the wall behind me.

"I have no choice, damn you," he growled. He turned and strode away. Imoen, who had been eavesdropping, raised her brows in a question. There was a cluster of burn blisters on her cheek and the usual smile in her eyes had been replaced with fatigue. I shrugged in response. I didn't know what he meant either.

"We should push on," I said. "We are close."

The higher we climbed (up steps made for a giant's stride, gods, how my legs were aching), the more resistance we faced—giants, their pet monsters, and at the last, a magical barrier. Sloppy work, according to Imoen, for she quickly dispelled it with wardstones she found hastily tucked away in what she said were painfully obvious hidey holes. The doors at the top of the stairs were barred and we heard the heavy tread of giants milling around behind them. Jaheira's sharp eyes spotted a vent large enough for us to clamber through. We had to crawl over one of those grates over the lava and even through my gauntlets and greaves, the metal felt hot enough to grill steak.

We were able to slay a few of the acolytes in a side room before they could yell for help. Imoen turned invisible to scout the main chamber. When she returned, still invisible, she gave us the news.

"I saw eight giants and they looked pretty tough. They are guarding this big altar with a brazier beside it. I think that must be Yaga-Shura's heart in the brazier. I'm pretty sure it's a heart and I'm absolutely sure it's not a human one."

"Can you take it?"

"It was floating in blue flames and I was afraid to touch it. Besides, it's big. Real big. Bigger than Sarevok's head."

"Then we fight."

And we did. The giants fought with the determination of those making a last stand. Their priest fell back to the altar and began a spell. I couldn't get to him through his acolytes before he finished. He raised his arms and flames roared up and from them stepped a fiery figure.

"Imix, Prince of Fire," called the priest. "Slay these infidels!"

The fire elemental—and I suppose it was a prince of its kind, it certainly was the biggest one I'd ever seen—surged forward. He carried a halberd of a design new to me and he brandished it like a trident. I was raised on the coast, I'm familiar with tridents but I'd never seen one used as a weapon of war. I moved toward him and wondered why I hadn't thought to carry a shield. Too late now.

"Kill the Bhaalspawn!" the priest screamed. The elemental's fiery head swiveled like a hound seeking a scent.

"Keeta!" Sarevok said but I had no eyes for him. I already knew to be wary. More flames erupted behind the prince. More elementals streamed out. Imix and I circled each other. That halberd gave him a lot of reach and if I moved in close, I was going to get burned.

"Imoen," I hollered. What I needed was some good spells. From the side of my eye, I saw Sarevok moving out. He saw my dilemma and was going to flank Imix and attack from the rear but he had to cut his way through the new elementals first. So I just had to keep Imix busy.

Imix made a couple of attempts to disarm me with that halberd, trying to catch the head of my morning star in the forked blade. When the ice enchantment on my weapon hit his blade, steam exploded in a searing cloud. Still, without a shield I had no real choice but to fall back as he advanced on me. I was almost distracted by a big thud behind me—another giant fallen, probably Keldorn's work—and as I stumbled back, one boot slid between the bars of a grate. My arms flew up as I windmilled for balance. His halberd rang against my breastplate. The blow forced me down to my knees. My boot popped free but something really bad happened to my ankle as it twisted. I yelped. The halberd slashed again. I raised my weapon for a weak one-handed parry but Imix didn't aim for my body. He plunged his halberd into the grate by my foot.

His blades hooked into the metal bars. The grate slid beneath me. Time slowed in that way it does when complete disaster strikes and your mind panics. The grate slid again. Imix jerked the whole section loose, grabbed it right out from under my feet. I slipped down into the trench. The lava roared beneath me. I flung out my arms. There was nothing to grab. I seemed to see everything around me bright and clear. I saw Sarevok run towards me, mouth open in a shocked O and I felt, through my fear, an echo of his. Imix raised his arms and the lava beneath me surged up in response. Its glare half-blinded me. Behind me, Imoen screamed something. I slammed my morning star into the floor. It screeched against the marble and didn't catch. I fell.

A whoosh of magic. Something caught me.

Sarevok screamed something incoherent. He cleaved Imix in two. I was still trying to figure out what had happened. I was caught in some kind of sphere, a magical bubble that I could feel with my hands and feet. I floated above the hole. I saw the lava below my feet but I could no longer feel its heat.

"Push her quick," Imoen shouted. "The spell won't last long."Sarevok, panting, shoved against the sphere, and I moved back, sphere and all. I couldn't feel the floor beneath my feet but I could see it and that was good enough. My hands were shaking, my knees were shaking and when the spell collapsed I collapsed with it.

At least the fighting seemed to be over.

"What in the Nine Hells was that?" I asked Imoen. "You saved my life!"

"A spell I bought in Saradush," she said. "First time I used it too. I was going to use it on Imix, keep him from hitting you. It was the only spell I had left. Gods," she said. And she suddenly sat down and put her head on her knees. Sarevok was as close to pale as a Sembian could get.

Jaheira said my ankle wasn't broken and she fixed it so I could walk on it.

"So," I said. I wanted to break Sarevok's shocked, staring silence. "That was an elemental prince."

"One of the princes of evil," Jaheira said. "There are elemental princes aligned with the good as well."

"And Sarevok killed it. So that is good, right?"

"It is not slain but merely returned to its native plane," she said.

"And that priest summoned him. Can you summon an elemental prince too?"

Jaheira had on her inward expression, what I thought of as her elf-look, secretive and withdrawn. "I am not certain. When I call upon the plane of fire, sometimes I feel—bah, I have no words to explain."

"The Weave feels thin and you feel the power there, waiting to be seized," Imoen said. "No, not to be seized—to be breathed in. It wants to be part of you."

Jaheira gave her a sharp look. "Perhaps that is a fair description, child."

Most days I was pretty thankful I hadn't been born a mage and this was definitely one of them. I had enough going on with Bhaal in my blood, I didn't need to be poking into the Weave and seeing whole invisible worlds as well.

Keldorn had blood all over his armor and at least some of it was probably his but he seemed hale enough as he recalled us to our task by approaching the brazier by the altar. Bodies lay everywhere but its grisly offering blazed merrily away. The brazier was made of a bright metal that looked like bronze, supported by a sturdy tripod, and was built to a giant's proportions. The heart floated in blue flames, higher than my head.

"You'd think it would be cooked by now," I said. No one even smiled.

"How do we get it out of there?" Imoen asked.

"You're the mage, you tell me," I said.

"I'm not touching that thing. Besides," she grimaced, "I'm out of spells, pretty much."

Sarevok stooped to pick up one of the giant's hammers and strode to the brazier. With one quick glance to check that we were clear (well, I hoped he checked) he planted his feet and swung. One leg of the tripod buckled and the brazier tipped over. There were no coals to scatter. The heart hit the marble floor with a wet thunk, rolled a bit then stopped. We stood around it and looked down. Suddenly Imoen gave a yip that made me jump too.

"It's still beating!" Imoen said. "That's gross!"

"The heart is still aflame," Jaheira added. I looked closer. In the glare of the room it was hard to tell, but maybe there was still a flicker of blue flame.

"So it's still alive?" I asked. "How is that possible?"

"I know little of the old magic the witch mentioned," Jaheira said. "I have heard of such things but thought them bards' tales, to be honest."

"'Tis evil sorcery," Keldorn said. "I, too, have heard of such things." I hoped he wasn't going to dig his heels in and insist on killing the witch, for without her aid I didn't see how we were going to defeat Yaga-Shura. But first we had to get the heart to her. I crouched down to look at the heart.

"It's hot," I said. I could feel the flames even through my gauntlets. Up close, it smelled like burning bacon. I decided not to mention that. Imoen already looked queasy.

"You are a true master of the obvious," Imoen said. "I'm proud to know you."

I made a face. "How are we going to carry it?"

"I think you mean, how are _you_ going to carry it? There isn't enough gold in Sembia to make me touch that thing."

Jaheira sighed. "Wrap it up in something," she said. I had a ratty old cloak in my pack. Since the enchantments were starting to unravel from it anyway, I donated it to the cause. All wrapped up, the heart made an unwieldy bundle. I eyed Sarevok's pack, pretty sure it would fit.

"No," he said.

"Did I ask you anything?" Sheesh. In the end I had to dump out half my gear to make room for the heart. Sarevok graciously agreed to carry my overflow. The heart was hot, it was heavier than it looked, and it stunk. Every so often, it would give one of those enormous beats. I could feel it all the way through my armor, like someone thumped me on the back. The first time that happened, I yowled like a booted cat and dropped the whole pack. Great. And we still had the rest of the temple to search.

At the back of the temple, we found the giants' living quarters. Yaga-Shura had collected some interesting weapons, mine now, ha ha. I made Sarevok carry them. Under his massive bed, Imoen found a golden chest. It was not the most original hiding place and that made me wonder about the giant Bhaalspawn. He had built a massive temple to himself—a temple!—and he hid his treasures under his bed. It seemed rather childish. If giants matured slower than humans, perhaps he was indeed a child—a large, dangerous, deadly child. Inside the chest was a smaller box, inset with what Imoen said were rubies. Inside the box was another beating heart and this one was human sized. It must be Nyalee's heart. Yaga-Shura kept his mama's heart in a jeweled box under his bed. For some reason, that made me feel a little sad.

I couldn't let him live. I couldn't. Not after what he had done, not after what he planned on doing to the people of Saradush. But I wondered—what would we all be like, us Children, if we hadn't carried Bhaal's taint? Did that question even make sense? Without Bhaal, we wouldn't exist. But without the taint, would we be better people? How much of the evil done by the Bhaalspawn came from the divine taint? How much came from the evil born in men's hearts?

The only person in a position to answer that question was Sarevok.

* * *

The water in the cold pool felt delicious. I thought I'd soak there all night and the men could have their turn at the baths later. Or they could just come in and join me. I was pretty sure Keldorn was the only modest person in our little band. Imoen sat on the edge and combed out her wet hair.

"Sarevok thought you were going to die," she said.

"Yeah," I said. "I thought I would too. If not for you, I would have died."

"He was terrified, did you see his face?"

"I was terrified too."

She kicked water at me. "Listen up, bufflehead. What's going on with him? He about killed himself trying to get to your side."

"He figures if I die, he'll die too. Do you think that's true?"

"I don't know. Anomen said—" She gave me a concerned look.

"You can mention his name, you know. I'm not going to burst into tears."

"I might be the one crying," she said. "I never thought I'd miss the big lug so much. But anyway, Anomen said he was an abomination."

"He is an abomination," Jaheira said. I hadn't heard her pad over, she moved so silently.

"I don't know what that means," I said.

"He has no right to the life you gave him," Jaheira said. "It is unnatural."

"Anomen said there is a piece of you lodged inside him," Imoen added.

"Like a chicken bone?" I asked. "I'm stuck in his throat and he can't spit me out, ha ha."

"I'm trying to be serious here."

"But it's ridiculous."

"Cut it out," Imoen said. "I wish you would get out of this habit of ignoring everything you don't want to see or hear. It seems to me—I hate to even say this."

"What?"

"It seems to me that he has feelings for you," she said. "What did he say earlier, in the temple? He said he had no choice but to protect you. All this time, I thought he was pretending to be helpful, to put you under an obligation. But did you see his face? He wasn't pretending in that temple."

"The man is a monster," Jaheira said. "You cannot trust what he says."

"He _was_ a monster," Imoen agreed. "But now—don't you think he is different now? That maybe he is changing? And maybe that has something to do with Keeta being inside him?"

"I'm not inside him!"

"Well, Anomen says that you are. A little. And I was wondering if you felt something too."

I surged out of the water. "Mainly I feel like I'm turning into a prune," I said. "And I'm starving. I wonder if Cespenar has found anything edible."

"Think about it, Keeta," Imoen said.

I wished people wouldn't keep telling me to think about things. Everyone knows I'm not good at it.

I got another headache talking to Cespenar after dinner.

"How can I make the portal set me down where I want to go?" I asked him. "I want to go straight to the forest tomorrow, I don't want to trudge all the way back down that mountain." Going down would be quicker than going up, but still.

"The portal decides," he twittered. He fluttered his wings and bobbed up and down. Made me crazy when he did that.

"The portal decides? How can that be? Does it have a mind, is it sentient? I control it, don't I? Tell me how to control it better."

"It is a god thing."

"A god thing? Well, which god? Do I need to pray or something? Is that what you told Anomen to do?" But I couldn't get any sense out of him and eventually I gave up. Prayer, huh? Would the gods answer my prayers just to save me a day or two of walking? Well, I'd give it a shot but I had my doubts. I was no priest. The only god I had a direct connection to was Bhaal and I sure wasn't going to pray to Him. Besides, He was dead.

And of course, to top my evening, I found Sarevok lurking in my room, waiting for me.

"I'm really beat," I said. He ignored my gentle hint.

"Shut the door," he said. I did so but I frowned.

"Now what?" Before he could launch into his latest complaint, I asked, "While you were dead, did you learn anything else useful about the portal?" But he waved this away. His eyes were steady upon me. I drifted over to the table. "Do you want some wine?" I could feel him right behind me. I suddenly missed my armor.

"Stop," he said. He put his hands on my shoulders, turned me to face him. I guess I was twittering like Cespenar. "Today—what happened—" His fingers were very strong and they tightened. "You fell."

"I got back up."

"Keeta."

He wasn't going to let it go. "I'm not immortal, Sarevok."

"Nor am I. But I saw you fall and I could not stop it." He stepped in closer. I felt the heat of his body all along mine. I had to strain to hear his words. "I cannot—this is intolerable."

I could feel his emotions thrum against me in a complex web—fear, frustration, anger, pain. Mostly pain. This was more than the echo I felt in the temple. These feelings pushed down on me like a smothering blanket. He needed—comfort?

"You have to tolerate it," I snapped. "You've had more practice at dying than I have but I am going to die, sooner or later. We both will. We're warriors. That's what happens to people like us."

"I have died." His arms went around me. It was like being caught in a golem's embrace, except golems do not tremble. Or perhaps it was me who trembled. I refused to look up, to meet his eyes. I feared what I might see there—I feared what he might see in my gaze. I felt his breath on my hair. "I know what lies ahead. I do not want that for you!"

And then I stumbled back. I think we both pushed free at the same moment.

"How the gods must laugh," he said bitterly. "I move from one cage to another. I shall never be free, in life or in death." He slammed the door on his way out. I don't know how long it took me to finally fall asleep.


	16. At the Glade

**Ch. 16…At the Glade**

I guess the gods didn't find my prayers sincere or worthy enough, for the portal set us back down at the temple the next day. We marched out of the Marching Mountains, back to the lowlands. We didn't see signs that any of Yaga-Shura's men had escaped before us, so presumably he would have no warning of what we had done. And what we hoped to do.

It was pretty clear Nyalee had been warned of our approach for she awaited us outside the ruined temple. No undead in sight, thank the Morninglord.

"Most anxious, Nyalee is, oh yes!" she said. "Have you founds her precious hearts, spawn-child?"

"I will show you what I found," I said. As I opened my pack and pulled it out, the giant's heart lurched in my hands as if it beat in fright. My own heart leaped in my chest and I almost dropped the wrapped bundle. I set it down on the pavement in a hurry. Then I took out the jeweled box and handed it to the witch.

"Oh!" she cried and snatched it from me. "Tis Nyalee's heart, it is! The spawn-child has found Nyalee's poor heart!" She hugged the box to her chest. With her toe, she poked at the cloak covering the huge heart. It steamed on the damp paving stones and the smell of burning meat intensified. That odor had filled my nostrils all through the long hike from the Marching Mountains and I had almost become accustomed to it. The others had given me and my burden a fairly wide berth. I think they feared I would make them take a turn lugging it about.

"And yes, this be the boy's heart, as well. Traitorous boy!" she cried, talking not to us, but to the huge heart. She shook her fist at the heart and lectured it. "Nyalee brought you to this sacred place, she did. Raised you to serve our master, she did. Taught you the old ways, did Nyalee. Made you invincible, even. Betrayer!" And she actually kicked the heart with her dirty bare foot.

"You steals Nyalee's heart. You listens to others now, not poor old Nyalee. You have failed Nyalee, traitorous boy, and you have failed the master, you have. You will never be the strongest. Nyalee knows this now. It is _her_ Nyalee must teach." She patted my cheek.

Imoen's eyes were big and round and she moved closer to Keldorn, as if seeking shelter. His eyes were fixed on the witch, but I saw no compassion in his face. He did not pity this crazy old witch. He was on guard.

"Who is helping Yaga-Shura?" Sarevok asked her. "Who turned him against you? Who gives him orders now?" Nyalee's expression turned sly.

"The dark man would like to learn the boy's secrets, he would," she crooned. "Whisper in your ear, I will. Nyalee knows things, she does. But you must helps Nyalee. Helps her extinguish the boy's heart."

"What must we do?" I asked. Then I had a bad thought. "I'm not going to have to _eat _it, am I?"

"No, oh no, that is the boy's silly fancy." She took my hand. "Nyalee needs but a drop of your blood. You bear the sacred blood of the master."

"Come to the sacred glade, you must. Nyalee has her heart. Nyalee can use the old arts again. Tonight we must prepare, and at dawn…at dawn, oh how surprised the boy will be. Yes, yes!"

"We are to spend the night at your glade?"

"We?" She looked at my companions. "No, no. No _we_. _You_ shall come, only you, spawn-child." She stared at Keldorn. He returned her gaze and her eyes seemed to flinch away from him.

"When the great Bhaal died, Nyalee's cleric powers were lost. But Nyalee knows what you are, holy man. Paladin." She almost spat the word. "A champion of the stern gods, are you. You may not enter the sacred glade, oh no. Not one such as you."

"And you," Nyalee said, turning to Jaheira. "Druid, where is your grove?" Jaheira gave her a narrow-eyed glare. I wondered if this was some sort of druid insult. "Tend your own lands," Nyalee said mockingly. "You are not welcome in the lands of Nyalee."

Imoen raised her chin in challenge when Nyalee stood before her.

"Little spawn-child, you must wait in the temple with the others. Nyalee will not share secrets with you. Only the mightiest may see the old arts."

"Keeta's not going anywhere without me," Imoen said. Nyalee cackled. "Apart you have been and apart you will be. Oh yes, oh yes. This is not the first time; nor shall it be the last." "What is that supposed to mean?" Imoen asked, angry, but Nyalee just smiled in response.

"Sorry, Nyalee," I said. "I'm not going off alone with you anywhere. That's just not going to happen."

She stood before Sarevok. She looked him up and down in a way that would have made me feel like meat at the market, and gave me a smile of approval. "Older arts than mine, these are. This one you may bring. Bring your guardian, clever spawn-child, if you wish." I peeked up at Sarevok. I thought that would annoy him and I was not disappointed.

Keldorn strongly advised against going with the witch. Jaheira called me a fool. Imoen was close to tears when she told me not to go. I didn't see much choice. The hearts were real, and they were alive in a way that I did not understand. Surely Yaga-Shura's invincibility was real as well. If we did not stop him, he would destroy Saradush, and the destruction would not stop there. They understood my explanation but no one liked it. Hells, _I _didn't like it.

"Sarevok will keep me safe," I said.

"Fool," Jaheira said again, but softly this time. "Stubborn fool."

"You will not need your weapons," Nyalee said, eyeing my gear. "Protected, you will be, in Nyalee's glade."

Lay down my weapons and follow the nice witch off into the woods? Right. "Thanks," I said. "But I think I'll keep them all the same." She shrugged.

"Bring the boy's heart," she said. So once more I found myself with a hot, heavy, beating heart on my back.

The glade was not far away, but I don't think I would have found it on my own. Nor did I have any confidence that I could find the way back to the temple unaided. The path had a strange way of twisting my sense of direction, and every time I looked over my shoulder to check my back trail, it looked like a place no foot had trod. We left no tracks. The ground was spongy soft underfoot and our boots should have left tracks a child could follow.

Foliage from the trees and shrubs pressed close. I constantly brushed against leaves and their shade was welcome. After the barren heat of the Marching Mountains, this place was a cool, green haven. It was quiet, along the path, but not lifelessly quiet. I heard the cries of birds, the calls and the splashes of frogs in the small pools we often saw, and I heard the drone of insects. Nothing bit me or stung me, oddly. Perhaps the smell of the giant's heart repelled them, or maybe this was the witch's magic.

Sarevok, city boy that he was, grew increasingly unhappy the farther we walked into the swamp. I heard him mutter something about weeds and he slashed his gloved hands at the grasping branches as if they offended him. He came closer and leaned over my shoulder.

"I feel something watching us," he said. He had spoken quietly, for my ear alone, but Nyalee heard him anyway. She might be old and crazy but she had the ears of a bat.

"You feel the woodsies of the forest," she said. "They will not harm you, oh no, not while Nyalee is with you." This was meant to be more of a warning than a reassurance, I guessed. Perhaps she, too, was feeling vulnerable, in the company of two armed warriors.

Suddenly the path opened up into a clearing. Huge boulders formed a rough circle and seemed to press back the invading forest. Although they seemed perfectly natural, the stones gave me something of the watching feel that I remembered from the great talking stone heads in the Forest of Tethyr. If these stones could speak, what would they say?

At the far end of the glade, a semicircle of water loving trees—cypress and water oak, perhaps—guarded a bubbling spring that flowed into a small clear pool. I moved toward it eagerly. As I watched, a small leaf dropped from one of the trees and landed on the surface of the pool. It did not detract from the beauty of the place. The sound of running water—the sun dappled through the green of the foliage overhead—the cool ferny scent—and now, the little brown leaf swirling across the pool—it was perfect. How could this be the glade of a crazy old witch, a former priestess of Bhaal, to boot? How could deeds of darkness be performed in such a place? It made no sense.

"This is beautiful," I breathed. Nyalee gave me a pleased look. There was motion by the pool, and steel hissed behind me as Sarevok drew his sword.

"Puts away your weapon," Nyalee said. "You see the spirits of the glade. Nyalee's to call, they are."

They were nymphs. There were two of them. One had green hair dripping down her back like wet moss and the other's hair was silvery like a fish's scales. They wore short little robes that displayed a startling expanse of leg. Other than that, I think they looked much alike, but I was afraid to look too closely. I had been charmed before and I didn't like it. On the surface, your mind floats away on a sea of pleasant thoughts and you feel your face smiling and smiling and smiling. Underneath you have a terrible feeling of anger and violation. You _know_ you are being charmed, you _know_ it is not real, and yet you cannot make your body obey you. So I averted my eyes.

Nyalee directed the nymphs to place Yaga-Shura's heart in the shade of one of the boulders. They carefully removed the coverings. And there it was, a really big heart.

"I still don't understand," I said. "How can Yaga-Shura live without his heart? How can it be _here_—out of his body?"

"Life is more than a body," Nyalee said. "Spirit and will can survive the loss of the body, they can. Ask your dark man. Knows this, he does, oh yes!" Sarevok gave her his quelling amber stare. Nyalee just laughed.

"The tale was told that the dark man had fallen, and much rejoicing there was amongst the mighty spawn-childs," she cackled. "Feared, you were, mighty Sarevok."

"You know who I am?" he asked. "Who I was?"

"Many knows the name of Sarevok. Many feared him. Sarevok fell with a blade in his heart, yet here he stands. Alive!" She turned to me and her face was sly. "Is that not a great mystery? Great indeed is the spirit of Sarevok and strong is his will. Oh yes, so strong." She stood before Sarevok and stared up into his eyes.

"Such a strong, strong will. But your spirit, now, it is tied to another. Bhaal's blood has left you. In her it flows now. Draws you to her, oh yes. You can smell the blood, taste it, but it is not yours. Oh, no, gone is the master's touch. So sad. When the master died and Nyalee lost the feel of him, so sad Nyalee was. Removed her heart, Nyalee did. Nyalee cannot be hurt now. You would do this if you could. Too late for you, strong one."

She turned back to me and took my hand. "Clever spawn-child, to hold the strength of such a mighty warrior. My traitorous boy is mighty indeed, but lacks the will of this one, he does. When he falls in battle, gone he will be. That is why Nyalee taught him to remove his heart. Else he had no hope against the other mighty Bhaalspawn. His strength at arms is his only strength, it is. He reaches for power he cannot hold." Her fingers dug into my hand.

"Teach you this trick, Nyalee can," she said intensely. "Nyalee can teach you to take your heart, to hide it, to keep it safe. The old tricks will help you against the betrayer, Yaga-Shura. Help you against the other mighty spawn-childs as well, oh yes. Yaga-Shura seeks you, spawn-child. Others seek you as well. Nyalee knows."

"Tell us of these other Bhaalspawn," Sarevok said.

"Sit," Nyalee said. "First we rest and eats." We sat in the shade near the spring. The nymphs served us fruit, daintily arranged on a wooden tray. They brought us mugs of cool water fresh from the spring. Was it safe to eat the witch's food? Such simple food, and it looked so appetizing. Surely it was safe.

"A woman came to the temple a season or so ago," Nyalee began. "The blood of Bhaal ran strong in her, oh yes. Seeking the clerics of Bhaal, she was. Or so she said. Many questions she had, seeking knowledge of the master and of the other spawn-childs. Many questions she had, like you have, dark man."

"Who was she?" Sarevok asked.

"Illasera, she called herself." She laughed at our looks of recognition. "Murdered she is, by the hand of the spawn-child, oh yes! Her blood flows in you now. Nyalee sees. Nyalee is happy."

"She attacked me," I said. "How did you know this?"

"Nyalee knows. Sees the blood, Nyalee does, sees the master's blood in you. In your heart. You have taken her strength. Strong spawn-child," she said, and her fingers stroked the back of my hand.

"Illasera sought Nyalee's secrets, she said, but came for more, she did. Stole the boy from Nyalee, she did. Illasera is dead now," she cackled. "Soon the boy will be dead too. The betrayers must die."

"She recruited Yaga-Shura? Who does she work for?" Sarevok asked.

"Nyalee knows no names. Powerful, they must be. Stole my boy! The boy leaves Nyalee here to rot, steals her heart, even. Die, they must." She pinched the back of my hand. "The master wants this. You must kill them. Seek them out and kill them."

"Where are these people?" I asked.

"The boy will know. Learn this from the boy. Defeat the boy, oh yes, you must defeat the traitorous boy."

"You will quench the heart so we can do this," Sarevok said.

"Yes, yes. In the dark hour before dawn it shall be done."

As the sun finally began to sink behind the trees, Nyalee began her preparations. First, she stepped out of her simple robe. The nymphs poured pitchers of spring water over her. Her body was old, sagging but when the water touched her, for a second I thought she was young and beautiful. Was it an illusion caused by the nymphs? I blinked and did not know. It was almost dark when Nyalee finished her bath and put on a clean robe. Tiny blue flames, invisible in the bright sunlight, could now be seen licking along the sides of the giant's heart. It made a grisly lamp. The moon rose early, so the glade was not truly dark.

Nyalee knelt down in the moss near the heart. "Rest now," she told us. "Nyalee must meditate through the night."

I exchanged glances with Sarevok. So we were just going to sleep out here on the grass? Great. Sarevok motioned for me to follow him to one of the great boulders. At least we'd have something at our backs. I curled up on the ground and I kept my sword by my side, sheathed, but with my hand near the hilt. Sarevok sat and leaned back against the rock. I dozed from time to time. Every time I woke, I saw Nyalee's still form, kneeling in silent vigil by the burning heart of the child she had stolen and raised. Had she loved Yaga-Shura at all, I wondered, or was he only a tool in her quest to resurrect Bhaal? Was he nothing to her but a bid for power—as I was to Sarevok?

My sleepy thoughts drifted into dreams. I floated in the beautiful pool and I saw a dark figure emerge from under the waterfall. He moved toward me and the water streamed over his muscled chest. His hand reached toward mine and when his fingers closed around my wrist, they were very warm and I felt—a flush of warmth flowed over me—and I felt—a wave of pleasure—no.

My eyes opened. Sarevok sat by his boulder, unmoving. I thought I saw a glint of amber. Was he awake or did the moonlight trick me? Did he dream, as I did? He said nothing and neither did I.

It was a long, long night, but at last, I saw the faintest gleam of the false dawn. Nyalee staggered to her feet and called me over. "Nyalee must have the blood now." One of the silent nymphs brought her a small dagger. "Blood near the heart would be best. Bare your heart, spawn-child."

"Um," I said and took a step back. I hadn't forgotten that Nyalee had the power to reach right through my skin. And she collected hearts. I wasn't letting her anywhere near mine. Nyalee cocked her head like a bird and giggled.

"The dark man can makes the cut, if that makes you feels safer." I nodded and she laughed again.

"Silly spawn-child," she said. I opened my shirt for him, and Sarevok took the dagger.

"Do not look so anxious, Keeta," he said in a low rumble. "I won't plunge this into your heart."

"I know." I guess it didn't occur to him that I might be feeling just a wee bit awkward about having my shirt wide open. Especially after my dream last night. His face was impassive. He traced a shallow line on my left breast. The dagger was very sharp and it did not hurt. Rich red blood welled over my pale skin. Nyalee leaned close and pressed her hands to my breast. She cupped her bloody hands around her face, as if to inhale a fine bouquet. Then she stood over the heart. There was no showy display of magic. No word was spoken. All she did was lay her small hands on the heart. A chill wind swept through the glade.

"It is done," she said.


	17. Saradush Falls

**Ch. 17…Saradush Falls**

"Did Yaga-Shura feel what happened?" I asked the witch, as she led us back to the temple. "Will he know?"

"He will know when the blood flows from his body. Kill him. Then he will know." She cackled. "Return to me when the boy is dead. Nyalee shall teach you the old arts. Nyalee shall keep your heart safe."

_Um, yeah_, I thought. To my relief, I could catch glimpses of the ruined temple up ahead. We were very close.

"I didn't actually plan on taking my heart out," I said. Nyalee stopped and stared up into my face. She looked at me a long moment.

"You refuse Nyalee's aid?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sarevok take a step away from me. He was giving himself space to unsheathe his two-hander. It seemed like an overreaction. Ever suspicious, my Sarevok.

"You've already been a big help," I said hastily. "This whole heart removal thing—" _Creeps me out_. _And so do you_. "I'd rather keep it where it is, thanks anyway."

"You do not wish to be invincible?"

"Everyone wants to be invincible," I said. "But I guess I have to pass on that. I figure I'll fight harder if I know I'm going to die if I don't. Besides," I added with a little laugh. "This invincibility business isn't really working out so great for Yaga-Shura, is it? He's got a big surprise coming, right? And me, I really hate surprises."

Nyalee frowned. Sarevok frowned too. He gave me a look that said clearer than words: _Shut the hells up. Fool. _

"The spawn-child does not trust Nyalee to keep her heart safe." Anger stirred in the witch's voice.

"Well—" Doesn't everyone trust evil old witches? What was the matter with me?

"Nyalee has made many sacrifices for the master. During the Time of Troubles, the master asked Nyalee to bear him a child. Too old was Nyalee, but no, the master said, it matters not. The body does not matter. Only the will matters. Nyalee bore the babe, but she was weak, the spawn-child. Small and weakly. Then the master died. Terrible times, oh yes. Then it did not matter that the child was weak. She had to die. The master's will, it was!"

Nyalee's eyes were wide with madness. She clutched my arm and stared up at me earnestly.

"All alone was Nyalee. The master was gone and the babe was gone. Then Nyalee learned of another spawn-child, a strong babe. Stole him from the crib, she did. Raised the boy to be the new Lord of Murder, she did. No fault of Nyalee's that the boy became a betrayer. Strong, he is—old Nyalee made him strong. But not the strongest, no. The boy failed Nyalee. He'll be no Lord of Murder, Yaga-Shura, but still he will serve the master! His death shall serve the master!" She put her hand to my shoulder and pulled me down closer to her face.

"You! You be the strongest. Nyalee's heart failed. Nyalee had to take her heart. But your heart, strong it is. Perhaps—perhaps the spawn-child be wiser than poor old Nyalee." She looked over her shoulder at Sarevok, still in his stance of relaxed readiness. Her hands clutched me again.

"You not forget all that Nyalee has done. When the time comes, spawn-child, you sees that old Nyalee's powers are restored. The master comes again, and you remembers Nyalee. Soon, it shall be. Soon! Faithful Nyalee will not be forgotten!"

"I will not forget you," I said. In fact, I was sure Nyalee would become a prominent feature of my future nightmares.

* * *

We could smell the burning long before we could see the city. We could hear the screaming long before we could see the refugees.

"Wh…what's happening?" Imoen asked.

"Saradush has fallen," Sarevok said. We were too late. Yaga-Shura had broken the siege.

We followed the main road. It curved, and then we saw the devastation of Saradush. The great walls had been breached in several places. The city burned. Not just the barracks or a house here and there—the entire city burned. Yaga-Shura had not taken the city as a conqueror—he had destroyed it. This, I feared, was not the pointless destruction of a madman, but the purposeful destruction of a Bhaalspawn. I felt the Slayer stretch and curl within me, like a cat waking from a pleasant nap.

A ragged stream of townsfolk poured across the main bridge, pursued by a small squad of the giant's archers. They picked off the stragglers, laughing as if this was great sport.

"Kill them," I told Imoen, but she had already begun her casting. Her fireball blasted the soldiers to ash. Luckily she managed not to destroy the bridge as well. The blast and the flames increased the panic of the refugees and they surged forward. Some of their leaders stopped when they saw us, not knowing if we were friend or foe. These were trampled by the others.

"This way," Keldorn cried, in his battlefield voice. "We will cover your escape." I didn't know if it was his paladin aura or just Keldorn's natural leadership, but his words seemed to calm the crowd, and they moved forward in a more orderly fashion.

I climbed the railing of the bridge to get a better view of the field of battle. I hopped down to find Sarevok frowning at me.

"Saradush is lost. We must retreat and seek out Yaga-Shura another time, when he is not so protected," he said. "We can do nothing here."

"No," I said. "Now is the time to strike."

"You fool, do you expect us to take on Yaga-Shura's entire army?" he asked.

"His men know him to be invincible. When they see us kill him, they will not dare face us."

"Perhaps," Sarevok said skeptically. "Perhaps you rely overmuch on Lady Melissan's advice. It seems more likely his men will turn on us in vengeance. Do you plan to roam the burning streets of Saradush and call Yaga-Shura out in single combat? What will stop his men from cutting you down first?"

"He will not be in Saradush," I said. "He will be in his camp, over there." I pointed it out. "We don't need to fight our way to him. I have enough potions of invisibility for us to get there and escape afterwards."

"This is a dangerous plan, if you can even call it a plan," he said. "Do you not agree, Sir Keldorn?"

"I do not like the idea of approaching stealthily, I admit," Keldorn said. I gave Sarevok an outraged look—how dare he go over my head to the paladin? "But I hear the screams of the innocent that Yaga-Shura's men hunt down even now. We are too few for a head-on fight. I am willing to try this."

After that, no one else had anything to say.

It seemed like half of Yaga-Shura's army was drunk and the other half was too busy looking for liquor to keep any kind of lookout. As we worked our way closer to the command tent, our main threat of discovery was not from mages or scouts, but from the clumsy feet of inebriated giants.

It would have been nice if the Bhaalspawn had been alone in his tent—which was the size of a circus tent—where we could perhaps have subdued him in privacy. But no, he was stretched out in an enormous camp seat, with his feet close enough to roast in a huge campfire. He was surrounded by several other giants and humans, presumably trusted officers. At least one was a battle mage and the others were likely formidable opponents as well. They all appeared to be sober. I signaled the others to spread out and surround the leaders, and then I realized one of the disadvantages of coordinating an attack while invisible. No signals. Oh, well, we had fought together enough times that surely everyone knew what to do. I was tempted to take out the mage first off, but figured Sarevok would handle her, so I went straight for Yaga-Shura.

Although still in his armor, he had taken off his helmet and it looked like he had loosened the straps to his breastplate. Anyway, there was a nice sized gap beckoning my blade. It is a bit awkward to stab with a two-hander but it can be done, and my sword bit deep into his side. Yaga-Shura roared with pain and fury. His seat tipped and he fell out. He hit the ground with a great thud. I had to leap like a deer to avoid getting caught up in the legs of the flying chair.

"What?!" he cried. "No! No, this cannot be! I am wounded?" Blood streamed down his side.

"Nyalee sends her regards," I said.

"You!" I was invisible no more. Yaga-Shura scrambled to his feet and drew his hammer. Off to my left, I saw something sail into the fire. I was pretty sure it was the mage's head. Sarevok's competence was reliable as ever.

"Snuck out of Saradush, did you?" the giant said. "I redoubled our efforts to crush this worthless town when I heard you were within. The Terror of the Sword Coast! And then to find you gone? What a disappointment you created for me, worm!"

I dodged a blow that would have split my helm and my head within it. I took a deep slash at his knee, which didn't do much damage to anything but his greave, but the armor was never going to look the same. Anyway, I could see he was rattled. His free hand pressed up against his wound. Maybe he had forgotten what mortality felt like. I was going to love giving him a reminder.

"I came back as soon as I could," I said. "I had a nice chat with your mom. You've been a naughty boy, Yaga-Shura." He actually ground his teeth in rage.

"That foul witch! I should have killed her back at the glade! No matter, Yaga-Shura will defeat you yet." I circled him, waiting for an opening. He was slow, but I had to take care. One blow, with his terrible strength, could disable me, kill me even.

I could hear the sounds of battle around us, which was no doubt bringing the rest of the camp down on us, but I kept all my attention on Yaga-Shura. He, however, looked about for reinforcements, and that gave me the chance for another shot at his knee, and this time, I hurt him. The greave broke loose, leaving much of his leg vulnerable. He screamed, staggered, and almost fell. I was out of his reach before he could take another swing at me. Instead he kicked hard into the roaring fire and showered me with burning coals and ash. A burning log smacked my thigh. I shut my eyes and rolled away as fast as I could but still, I was half blinded. My face smarted from minor burns. On top of that, I felt an arrow hit a glancing blow off my back plate. That was distracting but I kept my watering eyes on my target.

"Terror of the Sword Coast," he said. "Hah! Just a puny human, like the other weakling Bhaalspawn I slaughtered in the city. I should have been the first sent against you and now I shall prove it." I got the impression he was stalling for time. Being so big and slow, he telegraphed his every move. It was obvious he was going to protect his wounded left leg, so I changed my stance and attacked his right knee.

"I thought you'd be bigger, too."

"I'm going to rip the heart from your chest and make you suffer!" Another arrow slammed into my back. It didn't pierce my armor but I sure wished someone would take care of that archer before he found some better arrows. I saw Sarevok moving up behind Yaga-Shura, so I feinted at his left knee to keep the giant's attention.

"Why are you doing all this?" I asked him. "Why have you gathered an army? Why destroy Saradush? What do you hope to accomplish?" He actually laughed at me.

"What do we all want, sister? Our share of our Father's kingdom."

He wasn't laughing when Sarevok's sword sheared partly through his knee. He screamed. He fell. He dropped his hammer to clutch at what was left of his leg with both hands, but he couldn't stop the terrible bleeding. His blood, his tainted blood, ran hot and steaming onto the ground. His great eyes stared at me as I ran in close and I saw the knowledge of defeat in his face. He wore no gorget. I suppose giant's throats aren't particularly vulnerable from humans in the normal course of events. One hand rose in weak protest but he could not block me from cutting his throat.

I dodged the spray of blood but a few burning drops splattered my face. I was hit by—something.

Not blood, but power. Power ran through me. If you have ever had someone call lightning down on you from a clear sky, well, that was how I felt. The lightning strikes from above, but sometimes you feel it in your feet first, like the earth is shoving you toward the sky. I felt that strange tingling, like lightning, and then something blasted me away from Yaga-Shura's body, actually blasted me, so that I flew backward through the air. Sarevok caught me with one hand around my waist. He wielded his great sword in a one-handed grip and scanned for enemies, but this was no attack. The power swept him up as well. Every fiber of my being sang with something much like pain. I felt the Slayer stir and then a white silence took me.

When I came back to myself, I lay half-swooning on the ground. We were back in the cocoon plane, me and Sarevok. He stood, with his weapon still wet with Yaga-Shura's blood, between me and the Solar.


	18. Interlude with a Solar

**Ch. 18…Interlude with a Solar**

Say what you like about Sarevok, when a man stands off against a Solar for you, it means something.

It means he is crazy.

I tried to scramble to my feet but it ended up more of a slow crawl. With deep chagrin, I realized that I had lost my sword. I couldn't even claim to have been disarmed by a superior opponent. I'd just dropped it, like a fool. My old weapons master would have nailed my ears to the door—and slammed it a couple of times.

"Relax," I said to Sarevok. "This is the Solar I told you about."

"I greet you, you who are of divine blood," the Solar said. "It is time for your education to continue."

"My _education_? Now? Are you kidding? Where are the others?" I thought my head was going to explode. "You left my friends in Yaga-Shura's camp to face his army alone? Send us back there at once!"

"I have taken you out of the stream of time," she said, in a soothing tone that did not calm me at all. "When you return, all will be as it was."

I supposed I had to be satisfied with that. But if she lied—did Solars lie? I'd always thought they were the hands of the gods. If I couldn't trust her, I'm not exactly sure what I could do about it.

"Why not bring them here too?"

"My words are for your ears." I glanced at Sarevok. She'd brought him here too, or was that an accident because he'd been touching me at the time? She didn't seem concerned about his presence though and I sure wasn't going to bring it up.

"Very well," I said. "Tell me what I need to know." _And make it snappy._ I didn't quite dare say that out loud.

"The first step towards the fulfillment of your destiny has been taken. Yaga-Shura is dead by your hand, and the forces in play now move swiftly toward conclusion. Now you must know yourself and your past to reveal your future. Listen and be judged."

Ugh, just like Candlekeep. First the lecture, then the test. I was never good at tests.

"To look upon oneself and ask 'what is my nature?' one must know one's origin. Your own origin is a mystery to you, god-child. You have no beginning and without a beginning, how can there be an ending?"

An ending? Not sure I liked the sound of that. My own god, Lathander, taught that endings led to new beginnings. Perhaps I should take this as a promise and not a threat.

"What do you know of your birth?" she continued. "What do you know of your mother, of your life before Gorion brought you to the safety of Candlekeep?"

"I remember nothing of her and Gorion told me very little. And what I've learned since he died is very little more."

"I can give you a glimpse of your past. Your time is limited. Use it well, god-child." She pointed, and the shadow of a woman appeared before us.

"I am your mother," the shadow stated. My eyes ate her up. She was tall, like me, but she was clearly no warrior. Her body was lush and rounded but her face—despite her austere beauty, there was no softness to her face. Her mouth was set in a disapproving line and her eyes—I flinched away from the knowledge in those hard eyes. She was nothing at all like I had pictured her.

"You are?" I asked.

"I am Alianna, a disciple of the great Lord of Murder, a priestess of Bhaal. In the Time of Troubles did Bhaal, himself, come and whisper in mine ear. I was to give birth to one of the Children. To you. I rose my arms up and hailed my Lord of Murder with great joy at my fate. Others of Bhaal's order took me away, to hide us in the darkest temple away from prying eyes. Others of the Children were there and when our great Bhaal died did we begin our task."

"Your task?" I asked.

The Solar turned her head, and my foster-father, Gorion, formed. My heart leaped with joy but he looked right through me with no recognition. I realized that he, like my mother, was naught but a speaking shadow, an image with no sentience or awareness, an actor speaking the lines of a play.

"Her task was to sacrifice her own child," Gorion said.

"My child must die so Bhaal could live again."

"But I and several of my colleagues had discovered the location of this temple," said the Gorion image. "We attacked and stopped your mother from performing the sacrifice."

"We resisted," she said. "This was the will of Bhaal, the father of my child. I had my duty, my joyous duty." She pointed at Gorion. "He stopped me. He slew me. Bhaal curse you, mage."

"They were many and their magic was strong. We had little time. I killed the priestess. I rescued you and fled from the temple even as many other Bhaalspawn babes died."

Another figure appeared, that of a young boy. Sarevok stiffened beside me, and I knew who the boy had to be. Young, he was, a small child, but even then he held himself with all the determination of a man full-grown. His eyes burned with purpose and with anger. Not anger—fury.

"Not all of us died," said the child Sarevok. "Some of us used the chaos to escape, to flee."

"Yes," said Gorion. "Not all the Bhaalspawn children died that night. I saved the only one I could."

"I, too, stood at that altar. In despair, I stood in the blood of those children who died before me. I waited for your mother to turn her gory blade on me," said the boy. "She sang while she slit our throats."

"I chose you, Keeta," Gorion said. "I could not save both of you."

"He pushed me aside, saving you instead! I wanted to live too! And so I fled on my own and I fell into the hands of one who murdered for coin, not for love. It mattered not. I killed Gorion in the end." The boy and the man looked at each other and then the figures disappeared. The Solar's intense eyes stared down at me.

"And so your past is made plain," she said. "Your mother was a priestess of Bhaal, killed by Gorion."

"Now I understand why Gorion told me none of this." What child wants to know her own mother tried to kill her? So many fantasies I had woven around her—and none approached the truth. And Gorion—I had always assumed that he had some connection to my mother. And now I learned that he had rescued me, not because he knew me or cared for me, but out of impersonal pity? There was no connection between us other than pure chance. And Sarevok had known this all along. He knew my beginning and his own as well. He remembered events that I did not.

"And what of your brother, Sarevok?" the Solar asked me, as if she saw my thoughts. "What if fate had not intervened and Gorion had raised him rather than you? Would you have become as he was? Would Sarevok be in your place, now, if but for the smallest twist of fate? Is there a debt between you, then, that is yet unpaid?"

Something burned inside me. Pain—anger—injustice maybe? Debts unpaid—was that not the way of things? Did we live in a world where the unjust were punished and everyone got what they deserved? Not that I could see. Was the very concept of fairness or equity a fantasy? What had any of us Bhaalspawn done, as babes, to deserve to be slaughtered like calves for the market? My mother had sang while she killed my brothers and sisters. Seeing that ruthless face, I could picture her thus, wearing tainted blood to her elbows like gloves and with a joyous light in her eyes. Somehow I knew she had saved me for last, a precious final offering to the Lord she loved more than anything else.

I felt sick. The Solar moved closer and I flinched away from the compassion I saw on her face. And I realized she awaited my answer. What if Sarevok had been taken and I had been left? I could never have escaped as he did; I'd been a helpless babe. I'd be dead, a swirl of essence. I'd be back with Bhaal, returned to the source, as I believe the prophecies phrase it.

"Sarevok should not have been left behind," I said. "He has paid for what he did later but the events that started him on that path—they were not his fault. As for now, I don't know. Perhaps there is a debt." A debt—owed by Gorion, perhaps, but who else was there to pay it but me?

"We are finished, then, for now."

So that was it? I was judged? And what was the judgment?

She turned her gaze to one of the challenge rooms and I heard the magical release of the ward. "Consider what you have learned here, today. Farewell, god-child." There was a flash of gold and she disappeared. Everything disappeared. My stomach gave a sickening lurch and then I found myself back at the siege camp.

* * *

The golden image of the Solar, now twice as large as any giant, hung in the air above me for a long moment. A voice called out, unnaturally loud. It was my voice, but not my words.

"Soldiers of Yaga-Shura," my voice boomed. I touched my lips. They weren't moving. It was a trick. "Your leader is dead. Your quest has failed. Go, now, return from whence you came, and your lives will be spared. Stay, and you will surely perish."

None of them chose to stay and perish. That was a good thing for I was still unarmed and my head still swam.

"Where have you _been_?" Imoen shouted. She slapped the side of my helmet hard. "How did you _do_ that?"

Before I could answer, we heard the tell-tale sound of gating magic, and the air shimmered in the clearing. My sword still lay in the dirt where I had dropped it. As soon as I scooped it up, I felt a little better.

"By the Horns of Silvanus, what now?" Jaheira muttered in that shrewish tone she used when upset. "Oh. _Her_ again."

Melissan appeared. She held out her hands and ran towards me. Sarevok stepped between us and she came to an abrupt stop. I saw her shoot him a look of surprising viciousness before she turned to me with an expression of sweet concern. Sarevok often elicited that response from people, and as a self-proclaimed protector of Bhaalspawn, she had some good reasons to hate him. Still, her reaction seemed a bit off.

"Keeta! You live! I had heard the sounds of combat."

"Yes, I live, and so do you, it seems. Do the other Bhaalspawn survive as well? Yaga-Shura claimed to have killed you all."

"I tried to get the Bhaalspawn out," she cried, "But it was too late. Yaga-Shura seemed to think you were in the city and was eager to seek you out. He slaughtered them all, and there was nothing I could do." She shuddered and her voice broke dramatically. "A mere handful of peasants and myself escaped the destruction and fled. I was at a loss…I had no idea where you were until I heard your battle. I returned, of course, as quickly as I could. Saradush is destroyed. And everyone I tried to protect for so long, all dead. At least you killed Yaga-Shura. May he rot in Hell as he deserves!"

"You said you had information on Yaga-Shura's allies," Sarevok growled. Melissan put her hand to her forehead, as if to pull her thoughts together.

"Yes. We have failed here but we must go on. Yaga-Shura did have allies. They were all Children of Bhaal and they number amongst the most powerful of your kin in all of Faerûn."

The first name she mentioned was Illasera. She seemed pleased and relieved when I told her I had killed her. It was Illasera who had forced Melissan to flee with her Bhaalspawn to Saradush in the first place, into the death-trap sprung by Yaga-Shura.

Yaga-Shura's other allies she knew by name only: Sendai and Abazigal. Like Yaga-Shura, they were raising armies—for what purpose, she did not know, but it was sure to be a terrible one, she said. Once these armies were completed and joined, they would form an unstoppable force.

"You want me to take on _two_ armies now?" I exclaimed. "Just how do you think we can do that?"

"You killed Yaga-Shura, when no one else could stop him." She waved her hands at the emptying fields. "His army is gone, thanks to you. If you attack the others now, before their forces are assembled, before they can join together—yes, you could stop all this. Surely you could enter their enclaves and attack these monsters individually! It is dangerous, but it is the only way! Think of the slaughter if we fail."

That was pretty much exactly what I was thinking about.

Melissan had a map already prepared, showing the rough locations of the other Bhaalspawn's camps.

"There are just five of us," I said. "And you, of course. Is there no one else who can aid us?" She gave me a thoughtful look.

"I have one more ally that I can call upon, although I have been reluctant to involve him in the past. If there is a chance that all this killing can end, however, then I will ask for his help."

"Who is he?"

"His name is Balthazar. He runs a monastic order in a remote village in the Calim Desert. Yes, this village will serve as a base from which you can attack the enclaves of Abazigal and Sendai. Let me see your map." She marked the village of Amkethran. I had never heard of it. I looked at my friends—blank stares all around, even from Jaheira, who knew Tethyr better than any of us.

"I will go there now and speak to my friend," she said. "I will try to arrange things for you. We cannot linger here. We will speak further in Amkethran. Make your way there as soon as possible." She took my hand and looked earnestly into my eyes. "Be careful, Keeta. You are my last hope. You are the only one who can stop this madness."


	19. The Second Challenge

**Ch. 19…The Second Challenge**

I staggered out of the challenge room, my head still swimming from whatever it was that just happened. My hands shook so badly that it took me three tries to sheathe my sword. For this challenge, the Solar had pitted me against myself, or rather, the person I could have become if Gorion had saved Sarevok instead of me. My evil double had been supported by Sarevok's old allies Angelo, Semaj, and Tamoko and the battle had been fierce. And when at last I managed to kill my evil self—something happened.

"I think—" I said and then my legs turned to jelly. A strong grip under my armpits kept me from smacking the floor with my face.

"Sit down here," Keldorn said in my ear. "Put your head between your knees, Keeta."

"Is she injured?" Jaheira asked. She knelt beside me. She pulled off my helmet and looked at my eyes. "I don't see any blood but her pupils are like pinpoints. Could it be poison?"

"This is not poison," Keldorn said. "Or only in a matter of speaking." His voice sounded grim. "Sarevok. Do you know what happened just now?"

"Yes," Sarevok said. I tilted my head to see him standing over me. He and Keldorn exchanged a long look. It was not a friendly look. There had been surprisingly little antagonism between the two men until now. In fact, I would have said they felt a grudging respect for each other. _What is going on here?_

"Well?" Imoen demanded. "What happened?" Sarevok gave her a glance.

"Did you not feel it, dear _sister_? The paladin certainly did."

"Feel what?"

"Keeta just absorbed the Bhaalspawn essence of Yaga-Shura, and probably that of all the Bhaalspawn he had killed, as well." His face was completely expressionless. I wondered what thoughts he was masking. Not happy thoughts, that was for sure, or there would be no need for this rigid control.

"Why now? Shouldn't that have happened when she killed him?"

"I suspect this is the Solar's doing," he said. "Perhaps the very purpose of these challenge rooms is to hold the essence of the mightiest Bhaalspawn until the Solar judges Keeta ready to accept it. 'The wheels of prophecy e'er turn, Gorion's ward hath come.' The end draws ever closer."

"Aye," Keldorn said. He spoke carefully, in a voice that commanded attention. "The end draws closer, and we have the attention of the gods themselves upon us. We tread a narrow path between the light and the darkness. The time has come, Sarevok Anchev, for you to state where your allegiance lies."

Keldorn had not sheathed his sword. He held the Holy Avenger in a light grip, pointed toward the floor. Sarevok's blade was also naked in his hand. Neither made a threatening move but the threat was there nonetheless.

"I stand with Keeta," Sarevok finally said.

"Do you? Do you truly? Keeta yet stands in the light, but although the taint has been taken from you, your heart still lies shrouded in shadow, Sarevok. I have prayed to Torm that you would change but I see little sign of it as yet." Again, the two men locked gazes, and again, neither looked away.

"I saw something today that I did not think to see," Keldorn said. His face was stern as I had rarely seen it. "I saw you stay your hand, Sarevok, while the rest of us fought. I saw you stand back in safety while Keeta was under attack. She was grievously wounded and you did nothing. Is this how you intend to stand with her?"

I realized that Keldorn, who had not been with the rest of us in Baldur's Gate, had no idea who it was we had fought today.

"Those were Sarevok's former companions," I said. "For him to fight them would be like me fighting you and—and Anomen." I had not missed the shock on Sarevok's face when he saw his lover Tamoko appear before us. Keldorn dropped his gaze to me and I saw compassion in his eyes. He turned back to Sarevok and his face hardened.

"Such a trick is cause for hesitation, certainly, but do you mean to say it fooled you for long? Your conflict lies deeper than that. Does it not? Lie to me, if you dare." Sarevok met Keldorn's eyes but made no reply. "A choice must be made, Sarevok Anchev. You cannot walk the knife's edge forever." A long tense moment passed.

"I understand you, paladin."

Keldorn gave him a curt nod, and then headed to his room. I let out the breath I'd been holding, and Jaheira helped haul me to my feet.

"Well," Imoen said. "That was certainly intense." No one responded. Sarevok's face was completely closed down. He met my eyes, but glanced away. I was glad to evade that smoldering fury. "So what happens to Keeta, now that she has all this extra Bhaal juice?" she continued. Did Imoen not feel how close he was to erupting or did she poke him deliberately?

"I do not know," Sarevok said.

"Okay, well, what about the challenge rooms? There are five of them, right? Is this what the prophecy means when it talks about 'Five led down a false path'? Is there one room for each of the mightiest of the Bhaalspawn?"

"Perhaps. I do not know."

"So who are the Five? Two rooms are open now and Illasera and Yaga-Shura are dead. There must be three enemies left. Melissan told us about Sendai and Abazigal. So who is the fifth one? Someone we haven't met? Or is it Keeta herself? Do we have to fight _her_? That can't be right. Does she have to defeat herself?"

"I do not _know_," Sarevok said, through gritted teeth.

"Well, you don't know much, do you?"

"No!" he shouted. "I don't!" And he stalked off, presumably to his own room.

"Why is everyone so touchy?" Imoen asked plaintively.

* * *

Once I had recovered from my dizziness, I staggered to the bathing chamber. I had it to myself for once. The mage Semaj had been bad but Imoen and Jaheira had mostly kept his spells locked down. Strangely, Tamoko had transformed into a small fury with a big Kara-Turan sword and she'd kept me busy while that accursed backstabbing thief Angelo peppered me full of enchanted arrows. You'd think I'd learn. He had almost killed me the _first_ time I'd gone against him, way back in Baldur's Gate. Healing potions, swigged down during the heat of battle, had fixed my back but I didn't think anything would repair my shirt. I was running really low on clothes that weren't full of slashes or arrow holes. The last time I sent Cespenar out for clothes, he presented me with something made for a tavern girl half my size.

Even after the bath I still felt strange. I felt like I'd been yanked out of my body and thrust back in, carelessly, and now nothing lined up quite right. And I felt anger bubble inside me like a foul brew. I'd been reasonable when Keldorn berated Sarevok. I'd excused him. It was understandable that he didn't want to fight Tamoko. Wasn't it?

Except—how could he have not seen that this was an illusion? If Keldorn was convinced he'd held back on purpose, he was probably right. I had fought Gorion in the Forest of Mir. If anything, I had fought harder, knowing that the creature had worn a false face to confuse and upset me. Could Sarevok really have believed he faced Tamoko's shade? Even if he had, why would he leave me to die, knowing his own life was tied to mine? The more I pondered, the angrier I got. If he knew better—if he deliberately let me get mauled by his 'friends' as Keldorn believed—why would he do that?

I stewed in resentment. I didn't pass anyone in the corridor. Probably everyone was eating. I was half starved—I always had a huge appetite after I'd been healed—but I was hungrier for answers. Answers? Or a showdown? Why kid myself? And I knew where Sarevok was. Alone in his room, sulking. I could feel it.

Sarevok's door was closed. I rapped on it, hard, and then pushed it open without waiting for a reply. He had taken off his armor and his boots but he hadn't cleaned up yet. I shut the door behind me. We just stared a moment. I felt my anger and resentment come to a hard boil—a pot ready to spill over in a scalding wave. What I saw in his eyes was the same—exactly the same.

"Have you come to berate me?"

"Would you listen? Maybe I've come to kick your ass," I said. I knew the words were childish as soon as they came from my mouth. His eyes narrowed.

"Do you think you can?" He stood, seemingly relaxed. It was a pose. I could feel the tension running through him—I could feel his anger burning—I could feel—gods, were these feelings his or my own? I half turned away and forced my hands to unclench.

"You failed me," I said to the wall.

"Yes."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Do you want an apology?"

"No!" I took a breath. "I want an explanation, damn you."

"Do you think I owe you one?"

"You owe me everything!"

He glared and his mask of indifference cracked. "And there it is. You told the Solar there was a debt between us but we both know you lied. I owe you everything—_that _is your truth. I have lost all I had. _You_ have taken it. And still I owe you—what?" His face was flushed with anger. "You dare to demand an explanation? You should have fallen under my blade back in Baldur's Gate. Instead I live now by your charity and by your sickening compassion. I owe you everything—my life, my service. Not even my thoughts or feelings are my own."

"That's not my fault!"

"Gods! Such an easy life you have led! Everything was given to you, while I—I have had to fight for any and every thing I ever wanted. Even in Bhaal's foul temple when we were babes—you were rescued and I had to fight my own way out. You have never had to scratch and crawl your way from nothing, like I always have. Always! Yet here you are, with Bhaal's power so strong upon you now that it makes my very skin crawl. It should have been mine!"

His anger was so real, so painful. Despite my own anger I felt the urge to touch him. He saw me reach out. He struck my hand away.

"You and your easy compassion. You make me retch! Is this some twisted jest of the gods? How could _you_ possibly be a Child of Bhaal? How could _you_ have defeated me? It would be worth dying if I could see you fall first."

"Keep helping me like you did today. You'll get your wish."

"I cannot," he said. "It took every scrap of self-control I had to hold back and for what? Still you prevail! Where is my will in this? Everything I have done, my whole life, was for the power to be free to make my own choices—a power it seems will always be denied me."

"You made plenty of choices. You chose to kill Gorion. You chose to start a war. You set everything in motion that led to your death. It's done now! And you're still angry about it? Too late, Sarevok! Let it go."

"Let it go? I have given up my dreams, my ambitions, and my very soul. Now you want me to give up my anger? Is this to serve you too?"

"What did I ever do to you, that you should say such things?"

"I watched you grow up in Candlekeep, cherished and coddled, while Rieltar plotted how best to use my power and how best to bend me to his will. The prophecy said I must slay the other Bhaalspawn, but your death was the one I anticipated with the most pleasure. How I hated you, you and Gorion. "

"I never knew you existed until you killed my father right in front of me! You want hate? I had plenty of hate after that. All I thought of was vengeance for what you'd done. It poisoned me." Everything was spilling out. Tears too. "Keep your anger and your hatred too. Choke on it, for all l care. I thought there had to be a decent person inside you somewhere. I thought it was the taint that made you what you were. What an idiot I am! I can't trust you. Why did I think I could?"

"You'd be a fool to trust me."

"I am a fool! You know what? I don't care anymore. Just pack your gear and your anger and your hate and take it all out of here. I've had enough." I was shaking with anger—and something else. Bitter disappointment. We'd fought side by side, as comrades. Maybe, I'd thought, even as friends—yet under it all he despised and resented me. He grabbed my shoulders. I wasn't cowardly enough to evade his gaze. Would seeing me weep make him despise me more? Did it matter?

"I cannot leave you."

"Have you tried? Where there's a will, there's a way, they say." My words were flippant but my voice broke on them. "Anomen managed to find his way out of my life and he loved me. It ought to be easy for you." His grip tightened. He stood very close.

"It is not easy for me." His voice was very low. "My anger, my hatred—it is all I have left of the man I once was. And yet, when I am with you, there is a part of me that wants to let them go. But is this truly my desire, or does it come from you? How can this be my will?"

"Still you blame me? I cannot have this much of an effect on you."

"You do! We are entwined. I feel Bhaal's power in you. I feel the Slayer when it rises within you. I feel your sorrow and regret, I feel your pain. I have feared—tell me that I am not the only one who feels this! Tell me that this link goes both ways!" I couldn't speak. He shook me. "Tell me that I am not your slave in this."

"You're not my slave," I whispered. "I feel—" How could I tell where my feelings ended and his began? "We're all tangled up together."

"I thought this bond would weaken over time. But it has not."

"I'm not doing it on purpose."

"It is not what you do. It is what you are." His hands loosened their death grip and slid over my shoulders, to my upper arms. "I am drawn to be near you—to protect you—to touch you." He took a half step closer. I felt his clothes brush against mine. "Tell me you feel this. Tell me!" But he gave me no chance to speak. His head bent so he could kiss me. One arm ran down my back to press me in closer. And what I felt, under the surge of warmth, of loneliness and hunger, was a sense of inevitability. We were entwined, not just by Gorion's death, but even before that, back before my earliest memory, back in Bhaal's temple where fate, in the form of Gorion, intervened to separate us and set us on divergent paths. We'd each travelled a bitter road, through betrayal and murder, and now our way ran together. For how long, I did not know.

But it led us to his bed, to a frantic coupling where every touch lit a fire under my skin, and what that meant, and what that would lead to, I could not begin to imagine.


	20. Arrival in Amkethran

**Ch. 20…Arrival in Amkethran**

It didn't take a seer to predict that my companions would not be thrilled by this unexpected twist in my relationship with Sarevok. I wasn't real sure how I felt myself. I wasn't real sure how _he_ felt. If anyone noticed me slip out of Sarevok's room—or he from mine, for we did it again and again—nothing was said. The day of reckoning was merely postponed, of course, but maybe if I let things slide long enough I'd get killed or something lovely like that and I wouldn't have to deal with it.

I thought about asking Cespenar to make me a secret passage. If you have to sneak around to do something, maybe you shouldn't be doing it. That's what I told myself. But I didn't want to stop.

When Anomen and I started sleeping together, had we snuck around at first? It seems like we did. Anomen wanted to protect my reputation, if I recall. Not that I imagine we fooled anyone. We were so much in love and Anomen was, if possible, more of an open book than I am.

It was different with Sarevok. We weren't love-struck moon-calves. We were drawn together by a compulsion that really couldn't be considered normal or healthy. Anomen and I had both been so inexperienced that everything we did was a discovery, fresh and new and joyous. And sometimes bumbling and awkward. Sarevok knew pleasures of the flesh I hadn't imagined and when we touched, our desires fed off each other in relentless waves. I didn't feel proud of our stolen, hidden time together but give it up? No, I didn't want to give it up.

It was better than murder for satisfying the cravings of my tainted blood. Which was good, for we went through an unprecedented period of days without battle.

* * *

Most travelers crossed the Calim Desert during the cool evening hours. Therefore, we walked in the heat of the day. Instant access to the pocket plane meant that we were not forced to carry our entire water supply on our back, and we could escape the brutal sun whenever we needed to rest. Sometimes I wondered if I was getting too dependent on my little piece of hell. It was certainly convenient in so many different ways.

As we approached the oasis, I called a short halt. Jaheira and I studied the map together.

"Can you chart us a course around the oasis?" I asked her. "I don't care to wander lost in the desert, but I'd like to avoid any caravans watering there."

"Of course," she said. "If we follow this ridge, it should lead us to Amkethran. It may even be shorter than following the trail the caravans use."

"I'd like to go scout the oasis first," Imoen said.

"Why?"

"Aren't you curious about all these tracks we've been seeing? Don't you want to know who is up there? Could be important." I wasn't sure I cared that much but it was obvious that she did. She had never seen a real desert oasis. Neither had I, but I would rather push on to the village. Still.

"You can stay invisible? You have enough potions and spells ready?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I'll be back in a bit."

We broiled in the hot sun for an exceedingly long time before the air shimmered and Imoen appeared before me, looking highly agitated.

"It's an ambush," she said. "Half the Tethyrian army is waiting up there—for us! Keeta, they are holding you responsible for the destruction of Saradush!" She jammed a piece of paper into my hands. "Look!" It was a bounty notice.

"One hundred thousand gold pieces for my head? What in the Nine Hells? How could they possibly think _I_ destroyed Saradush? There were plenty of witnesses to what really happened."

Sarevok leaned over my shoulder to read the paper. "Do you think the King and Queen of Tethyr care about the truth?" he asked. "One of their cities has been destroyed. You are a Bhaalspawn. That is all the truth they need."

"The crown failed to protect Saradush," Jaheira said. "That is an unpalatable fact. Someone must take the blame for that failure. They will find it far better to lay the blame on one of the hated Bhaalspawn than to have to take a hard look in the mirror."

There was an edge of bitterness in her tone that made me ask, "Jaheira, do you know these rulers? Have you met them?" Harpers get around and seem to know everyone, and Jaheira had personal ties to Tethyr, she'd once told me.

"I know how their kind thinks," was her somewhat evasive answer.

* * *

Amkethran may once have been a sleepy desert village, but now it was an armed camp, swarming with activity. These soldiers did not wear the uniform of Tethyr or any other place. They were mercenaries. They seemed to consist of many small bands of fighters and mages, each with their own leadership, brought together for some common purpose. Some groups maintained military discipline, spending their time training and seeing to their arms and armor. Others lost themselves in idleness, drunkenness and brawling.

The monastery loomed impersonally over the chaos below.

The bounty notice had contained a detailed description not just of my person, but of my armor and sword as well, and frankly, my githyanki sword was much more memorable than my face. So I had reluctantly changed into my second best armor, and now wore the blade I had found in Yaga-Shura's temple. It was a fine blade, heavily enchanted, possibly even a better weapon than my silver sword, but still I mourned for the blade I had used for so long. Irrational, I know. I even swapped helms for one that covered more of my face, and the loss of some of my peripheral vision irked me every moment of the day, and served as a constant reminder that I had a huge price upon my head.

The townspeople seemed to regard us with a mixture of suspicion and dread. I eventually realized that we were not being singled out. All the mercenaries were feared. We were armed, and that made us the enemy. Amkethran had the feel of a town occupied by an enemy force, not a town protected by a hired army. _What was going on here? _Melissan had implied that the village would serve us as a sanctuary, but it did not feel particularly safe or welcoming to me.

The gates to the monastery were locked. That seemed odd. There were no signs to identify the place, and no symbols of any kind to identify to what gods or creed the order was dedicated. If I had not been told this was a monastery, I would have taken it for some noble's fortress.

The guard at the gate greeted me with alert eyes and a bored voice.

"Do not loiter near the gates," he said. "New mercenaries sign up at the tavern. The pay rate and quartering arrangements will be explained to you there."

"We are not mercenaries," I said. "We are here to see Balthazar."

"No one sees Balthazar."

"Wrong answer, fool," Sarevok growled behind me. The guard made a hand signal, and half a dozen other monks stepped out from their places of concealment.

"Hey, settle down!" I said. "We're friends of Melissan. Has she not arrived? She was to set up a meeting with Balthazar."

"Ah, so that is who you are," the guard said and he looked me up and down much more carefully than before. He said something quietly to the monk beside him, who then ran lightly off through the inner courtyard. "Wait here."

We had a long wait under the hot sun. I took off my helm before my brain baked, but there wasn't much of a breeze to cool my head. There was shade in the courtyard but not out here in the street. I was getting a bad feeling about this. Why did Melissan want us to meet Balthazar? She had called him a friend, but her words had seemed ambivalent. Who was this fellow, anyway, and what aid could he lend us?

Finally, a small group emerged from the courtyard. Their leader was very tall—not as big as Sarevok, but certainly bigger than me. The top of his head was shaved. He was barefoot and dressed in the same simple robes as the others, but his eyes glowed with power. I had never seen a human man move with such quiet grace. It was if the very air stilled around him.

The guard opened the gate, and the monks came out to meet us in the dusty street. We were not to be allowed even into the courtyard, it appeared. How inhospitable.

With no more than a glance at my companions, the leader stood before me and looked down into my face. I have been tested by paladins and clerics, not to mention a certain hard-to-please druid. I have been judged by a Solar. I have stood before the avatar of the Leaf Lord. I have met the eyes of demons and dragons and not backed down. But I had never been so mercilessly stripped by a gaze before. He looked straight into my heart, my soul, and there was not the smallest feeling of mercy or compassion in the monk's assessment. I would have flinched away but I was frozen in place.

He looked into me, and so I looked back. Underneath his tightly controlled power, I sensed some grim resolve that drove him. On the surface, there seemed no more emotion in him than in a golem or other construct, but underneath that calmness—something lurked. I felt the Slayer within me stir with interest. I reached for his hand, as if a physical touch would help me understand him, and he blinked and took a step away from me.

"So," he said. His voice was deep and deliberate. "You must be the Bhaalspawn Melissan told me of. I have been expecting you." He looked us over again, his eyes resting on Imoen and then Sarevok for a thoughtful moment. "I am Balthazar, head of the monastic order here in Amkethran."

"I am unfamiliar with this order," Jaheira said. He ignored her.

"Melissan preceded you and told me of your coming," he said. "Melissan has already left the village, and did not say where she was going."

"She said she would meet us here," I said.

"I do not know where Melissan may have gone, nor do I care. As for you, Melissan has vouched for you. I'll tolerate your presence, for now. Melissan asked me to verify and update the maps to these enclaves she mentioned. I have done so." Balthazar nodded to one of the young monks beside him. She gave me a roll of papers. I took a quick glance to see that they were indeed maps, scribed in an elegant hand.

"Do with them as you wish, Keeta," Balthazar said. "Amkethran is available for your supplies and rest. Do not disturb my own activities and we'll not come to grief. Is that understood?"

"What sort of activities are you talking about? Do the mercenaries in town report to you? Why are you raising an army?"

"That is none of your concern."

"If we are to work together, it seems it is very much my concern. Melissan said—"

"I do not know what promises Melissan made you or what assumptions you have made. Our business is done. You will not be allowed into the monastery. Anywhere else is open to you. Good day and good luck to you, Keeta Bhaalspawn." He turned his back to me and left.

I stood there in the street, more than a little dumbfounded.

"Ooookay," Imoen finally said. "What in the hells was _that_ all about?"

Just what I was wondering myself.

"And those creepy eyes," she continued. "He's even worse than you, Sarevok. His eyes made me feel cold all through my body. He felt so evil."

"He is not evil," Keldorn said.

"You're kidding!" Imoen said. "Are you trying to say he is good? Because if he is good, that means—no." She shuddered. "He made me feel so dirty."

"He is a good man," Keldorn said, but he didn't sound happy about it.


	21. A Life of Service

**Ch. 21…A Life of Service**

"Why does that betrayer yet live?" Keldorn asked, as Saemon Havarian gated away, leaving yet another fine mess for us to clean up. I don't think the mercenaries he stirred up against us even believed his lies in the first place. They were spoiling for a fight, and we gave them one. They were dead now.

"He lives because Keeta keeps letting him go," Jaheira said acidly.

"Hey, come on now, that's hardly fair," I said.

"You have a soft spot for a rogue," she said. "You always have."

"That's a pretty sweeping statement."

"How many times has Havarian betrayed us now? Yet still you smile when you see him. Just as you smiled upon Haer'Dalis, and Coran as well. They were both scoundrels and you knew it. They both walked off at very awkward times, with their pockets full of our gold and treasure, and you can count yourself lucky not to have been seduced—ahem. And then, there was Yoshimo."

"I felt sorry for Yoshimo," I said. "He made one error of judgment and he threw away his life, his honor, everything. It could have happened to any of us."

"Don't be foolish, Keeta. Yoshimo was no innocent victim. He pretended to be our friend, and all along, he was Irenicus' spy," Jaheira said. "He delivered us to the _creature_ that killed my husband and tortured you and Imoen until—" She took a breath. Neither of us wanted to relive those days. "And still you tried to save him, after all he had done."

"He was under a geas, Jaheira. He had no choice."

"He had made a _bargain_, Keeta," she said. "He gave himself up to Irenicus of his own free will. No, worse, he _sold_ himself to Irenicus. How can you pity a man who will sell his own soul for gold?"

"I'm not sure that is true, Jaheira. I think Irenicus was powerful enough to force the geas on him. We don't all have your strength of will. Besides, anyone can be manipulated into giving themselves up—with the right leverage."

"Nonsense," Jaheira said, and I let the argument drop. Besides, I saw Sarevok's eyes upon me and this was not a subject I cared to have probed.

We had canvassed Amkethran for information on either Sendai or Abazigal and had come up with nothing. Melissan had at least known their names and the fact that they were Bhaalspawn. The mercenaries and townsfolk here had nothing to add. The common soldiers we talked to knew only that they had been hired by the monastery because 'these were troubled times', and none of their leaders were willing to talk to us. 'See Balthazar' was their universal response, and they smirked as they made it. Finally we gave up and returned to the pocket plane.

"Do you think Balthazar would tell us anything else if we went back to the monastery?" Imoen asked. She rolled her eyes at my expression. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, but I just had to ask."

"I don't know what Melissan was thinking when she sent us to him in the first place," I said. "What is he, anyway?" I asked Keldorn. "Is he even human? I felt something really strange when he looked at me. Is he an aasimar maybe?"

"Did you feel Balthazar had celestial origins?" Keldorn asked. "I don't believe so. However, it is said that the greatest of monks move somewhere outside of humanity. What did you sense?"

"He laid me bare with his gaze," I said. "I don't know how else to describe it. I felt no emotion from him. He just opened me up. And yet—"

"What is it, Keeta?" Keldorn asked.

"He caught the Slayer's attention." Talking of the Slayer, especially to Keldorn, made me feel a flush of shame.

"Did he try to call the Slayer?" Sarevok asked.

"No," I said. "I think it was the other way around. The Slayer wanted to call _him_. If that makes any sense."

We all digested that a moment.

"Could he be a Bhaalspawn?" Imoen asked. I shrugged.

"He did not feel like any Bhaalspawn I have ever met," Sarevok said. That was one thing we all agreed on.

* * *

"You lead a hard life with no reward for the risks you take," Sarevok said. "Why?"

"I assume you mean my life as a paladin? Indeed it is a difficult path, full of strife, and there is little enough peace to be found," Keldorn said. "I would not agree with you on the lack of reward, however."

The two men sat at one of the small tables in the common room, with a pitcher of ale between them. I eavesdropped shamelessly. If they wanted privacy, they should have moved. Cespenar and I sat on the floor in the corner, with tools and bits and pieces of strapping and hardware around us. I had never been happy with Sarevok's armor and I was determined to rework it. Cespenar was quite helpful at this sort of work. The imp had a fertile imagination and eons of experience. His tiny hands could fit where mine would not. He also chattered incessantly but I had learned to let the words flow over me. I hardly ever felt the urge to strangle him anymore.

"I assume you speak of spiritual rewards," Sarevok said. "Yet with your skills, you could have made a name for yourself, Keldorn. You could find more lucrative employment. You could have armies under your command. Or you could find a post that would keep you close to your family, if that is your wish. Why have you chosen to live like this?"

Keldorn laughed.

"You've had a wealth of experiences, Sarevok, and sometimes I forget that you are but a young man yet." I saw Sarevok stiffen slightly, and Keldorn saw it as well. He held up his hand and smiled. "Nay, take no offense," he said. His voice was calming. Keldorn always treated others with respect, whether they were friend or foe. It was one of the things I loved about him.

"At my age, the whole world seems young sometimes. What I meant to say was that, in time, you may learn that we do not always choose the life we lead. Or perhaps I should say that we seldom anticipate the consequences of our choices. The gods have their plans for us, and they can lead us to strange places indeed."

"Do you say we have no choice in the path we must follow?"

"There is always a choice," Keldorn said thoughtfully. "I don't mean to imply that the gods compel us to follow a certain direction. They do not. The gods ask much of us, at times, but we have free will. We can deny the gods, if we choose."

"But you chose the life of a paladin."

"Aye. I chose a life of service. I was an ardent youth and I held romantic ideals of the life of a paladin. From an early age, I was determined to dedicate my life to the protection of the good and the destruction of that which opposed it. Torm accepted me into his service. I suppose I relished the thought of the sacrifices that would be required of me, in the way of ardent youth everywhere. As I grow older, the sacrifices required have become weightier, or so it seems. Yet the gods give me the strength to bear them."

"Is this the path the gods planned for you?"

"An interesting question," Keldorn said. "Torm has given me the skills and the strength I need to serve in my role. If I had chosen another path, would my god still have supported me? Or would another god have claimed my service? I do not know." There was a pause as he refilled their mugs.

"There are those whom the gods approach directly," Keldorn continued. "I know of men who became paladins because their god appeared to them in a dream or vision. It was different for me. I was led to this life by the desire in my heart, not by the words of my god. I chose this life, but my god approved my choice. I think we all are called to fulfill our purpose in our own unique ways."

"I suppose, then, that the gods did not approve _my_ choice of a path in life. That is why I failed."

"Perhaps the gods have another purpose for you. It would certainly seem you were not meant to take up the mantle of your dead father. You are truly fortunate that his curse has been lifted from you."

"A curse. Is that how you see it?"

"Aye. To be born a Bhaalspawn is a curse indeed. Bhaal's dark blood twists the lives of his children. Surely you have seen this? Think upon the others you have met. Keeta bears it better than most, but she has suffered because of this curse. I am certain that she would choose to be free of it if she could."

"Yet it is a source of great power. Look at how powerful she has become."

"There are other sources of power. I would suggest that Keeta's strength is not derived from Bhaal, and in fact, exists in opposition to his taint. You may judge this for yourself. Bhaal's taint is a power that serves Bhaal. Not Keeta. Not you. You attempted to turn Bhaal's power to your own use, and you failed. You died. All of Bhaal's children are betrayed in the end. Is that not obvious by now? The prophecies you set such store by say this, do they not?"

Keldorn leaned forward, his eyes intent upon Sarevok.

"Not many are given the chance to make a second choice. A better choice. You have been blessed, Sarevok."

"Blessed," Sarevok said bitterly. "What god would bless me?"

"Perhaps you should ask," Keldorn said gently. There was a long pause. The men drank their ale. "You do realize," the paladin said, "That you will not be able to compel Keeta to follow the path you wish for her."

"Yes," Sarevok said at last. "I have come to realize that." He looked over at me, sitting cross-legged like a tailor. It was a thoughtful look.

I was glad to see the tension relaxed between the Sarevok and Keldorn. Sometimes I think men have an easier time moving past their differences than women do. How Keldorn would react if he knew I was sleeping with Sarevok, I did not know. Would he forgive us?

* * *

The worst nightmares I've ever had, I knew they were dreams but I couldn't wake from them. This was like that. Always though, in my dreams, I'm myself. Well, unless I'm the Slayer. Still me, though, if a horrible monstrous me. But this time I was someone else.

I strode through an ancient hall. A temple? A palace? Under the dust and unidentified debris, the floor was marble. Large pillars supported a high stone ceiling. There were statues and ornately carved lamps, dark now. The only light came from the torches carried by the warriors at my side. I didn't know this place; I didn't know these men. But I looked at the shield I carried, the gauntlets I wore and the mace I wielded—these I knew very well indeed. Anomen's gear was as familiar to me as my own.

My first thought was joy: he lives!

But I felt my—his—heart pounding. And I saw the shadows pour out of the walls, out of every dark place in that dark hall. There was a cry behind me—my head turned without my volition—and I realized I was riding like a passenger in Anomen's body, able to see what he could see but unable to move or act. Shadows surrounded us and as I watched, another man fell, overwhelmed by a tide of darkness—darkness with eyes, darkness with teeth.

"We strike in Helm's name!" Anomen cried. Light flared around us. Some of the wraiths burned to nothingness but others slid away to hide behind the pillars. Anomen ran to the side of one of the fallen and again he called on Helm, this time to heal. The man crawled to his feet and took up his sword with trembling hands. His torch had gone out.

"There are too many, Sir Anomen!" cried a gray haired man with staring eyes.

"Helm will give us the strength to fight on," Anomen said.

"Their numbers are too great," another said. "And ours too few. We must fall back."

"Nay," said Anomen. "Have faith, Brother Odren."

"Curse this darkness," Odren said. "Pol, have you the wardstone?"

"I have it," the gray haired man said.

"Give it to me," Odren told him. He took a small round stone from the older man. "We must—oh gods!"

Another wave of darkness seeped from the deepest shadows. Someone grunted in pain. Another torch fell and was extinguished. The shadows grew greater still. I saw Pol's white and terrified face as the shadows flowed over him. He sank to the floor. Anomen took quick steps to reach him and buried his mace in the shadows. The mace glowed and the darkness fell away from his blessed weapon.

"They target the light," Odren yelled. He threw his torch away and it clattered on the filthy floor. "We must run for the gate."

"We must stand and fight!" Anomen said. But he was speaking to Odren's back. "Would you leave me to fight this evil alone?"

"Come to the gate," Odren called.

Anomen bent to check on the fallen man. In that moment of distraction, the shadows struck. I felt icy hands reach through his armor. Cold, so cold. And the darkness grew.

"No!" I cried but I had no voice and my scream was only in my head. The darkness grew, it covered our eyes, I could not see. "NO!"

"Helm!" Anomen cried. "Give me the strength to do your work!"

And at the same moment, I screamed, "Lathander! Save him!"

And a blinding light, brighter than a hundred suns, flashed over us in a silent golden wave.

I fell out of bed and hit the floor with a heavy thud. "Anomen! Anomen!" But I was awake and he wasn't here. The golden light still filled my eyes. I blinked and tears of pain flowed but they could not wash away the burning light. I could not see.

"What is it?" Urgent hands gripped my shoulders. Sarevok. I turned my face to see him but the brightness did not diminish. "Your eyes! I see the sun in your eyes!"

"It was real!" I shivered and reached for him. He pulled me to my feet. I sat on the bed.

"What was real?"

"My dream! It was real. Anomen is in terrible danger."

"You dreamt of Anomen? Slow down and tell me what happened."

"He was in some ancient palace, and the shadows—they overwhelmed him." I jumped up. "Help me get dressed! The warriors were going to leave him there! We have to go. Now!"

Sarevok took my hands and pressed me back to the bed.

"What has happened to your eyes?"

"I can't see! The light—it was so bright. I think it must have been Lathander. Or maybe Helm. Anomen called on Him. We have to help!"

"Keeta, be calm."

"The shadows were everywhere. He was so cold."

"Keeta, it was a dream."

"It was real! I could feel it. Don't you believe me?"

"I believe it was real," he said. "I see the evidence in your eyes. But what can you do now?"

"We have to help him."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No." I groped the air, found Sarevok's knee. I squeezed it. "The portal will take us."

"Will it?"

"It has to!"

Sarevok sighed. "If Helm answered Anomen's call, is he not safe now?"

I could have screamed with frustration. "I don't know! I woke up too soon. I have to see for myself!"

"You cannot see anything now, can you?"

"This blindness will pass."

Sarevok sighed again. "When it passes, we will try the portal, if that is your wish."

But the blindness didn't pass.

Jaheira couldn't cure me. Keldorn couldn't dispel the light that still glowed in my eyes. Imoen suggested I call up the Slayer form and see if that would help. I think she was kidding. I was frustrated to the point of trying anything.

"It's been over a day," I told Sarevok. "We have to go."

"What use can you be, like this?"

"I don't know." I paced until I banged into the table in my room. "Damn it! You'll just have to be my eyes."

"This is ill advised."

"Well, I'm not looking for advice. I'm looking for help."

I decided my leather armor would be good enough, since I couldn't see to fight.

"What weapons do you want?" Sarevok asked. I think he was being sarcastic.

"I don't need weapons," I said, testy. "Well. Give me my dagger. If anything gets that close I guess I can stab it by feel." He placed the sheath in my hand and helped me fumble it onto my belt. "And don't keep sighing," I said. "I can still hear, you know."

"I know you can hear but do you listen?"

I could navigate the pocket plane pretty well even without my eyes. I could feel it, like a shadow behind the brightness that blinded me. I could feel the corridor open up before me and I could feel the energy of the portal as we approached it.

"Is everyone ready?" I asked.

"Ready as we're going to be," Imoen chirped. I knew she was close when she took my hand. "You're sure about this, sis?"

"Let's go," I said.

Moving through the portal blind was a strange experience. It had always looked like a door to me, but now, without my vision, it felt different. Like I was pushing through a membrane maybe, or walking into a giant spider's web, woven from energy instead of silk. It brushed my face and I felt it with my hands.

"Take me to Anomen," I whispered. I felt Imoen's hand on my shoulder. And then the world lurched around me. A wave of nausea struck. I stumbled, caught my balance. The air felt fresh. There was a breeze on my face. A moist breeze—where ever we were, we were not in the desert of Amkethran.

"Where are we?" Imoen asked.

"You're asking me? What do you see?"

"There is an obelisk ahead of us," she said. She pulled me forward. "There is a path." It felt like dirt under my feet. Not a road. Not pavement. "Sarevok is running ahead. The obelisk bears the symbol of Helm."

"That's promising," I said.

"Yep. Have you ever heard of a place called Watcher's Keep? That's what the obelisk says."

"Never." But actually, it sounded familiar. Watcher's Keep—where had I heard that?

"Years ago a Helmite cult set up residence in a place called Watcher's Keep," Keldorn said. He moved past us, forward I assumed. I didn't hear Jaheira at all.

"The path leads to—wow," Imoen said. "Is that the keep? Built into the side of that hill? It looks huge. Like a giant's fortress."

Great. All we needed was giants now, and me with naught but a dagger. "Lead on." I only stumbled a few times. Like in a dream, my feet seemed to know this was where we should be.

"There are smaller buildings near the tower," Imoen said quietly. "I see a few people. Some are wearing armor." She was doing her best but this wasn't telling me much. What kind of armor? What kind of weapons? Trained soldiers, hunters, or peasant militia? "They see us. They are moving toward us."

I heard someone call out, presumably from the camp. "Are they attacking?" I asked urgently. "Do they have missile weapons?"

"No one has drawn a weapon. They seem to be calling someone. Sarevok wants us to stop. Let's wait here, under this tree."

We stopped and waited. I blinked. I felt the shade of the tree on my face but not even a hint of shadow darkened my vision, all was light still. I hadn't been able to sleep since I'd awoken from the dream. Even when I closed my eyes, the light was still with me. There was a long pause and then I heard running footsteps. My hand dropped to my dagger in pure instinct.

"Keeta!" It was Anomen. My shoulders sagged in relief.

"You're alive." I reached out. His hands took mine and squeezed.

"Thank the gods you're here," he said. "Our prayers have been answered."


	22. The Watcher's Warning

**Ch. 22…The Watcher's Warning**

"No, no, and hells, no," I said. We'd gone through all the explanations, and Anomen had taken a look at my eyes. He'd reacted with shock and surprise and then with lunacy. "I'm not going in there. I dreamed of that place. It's a deathtrap! Anomen, you were lucky to escape with your life! You can't go back."

"I must," Anomen said. "This is the task Helm has given me."

"I have my own task! I had to know you were safe but now—you are. As soon as this blindness wears off, I have to go."

"Heal her," Sarevok said.

"We don't have time to traipse around this gods-forsaken keep of yours even if we wanted to," I said. "Which we don't." Gods, I wanted to see his face. I wanted to see the faces of the others.

"This task is of vital importance," Anomen said.

"Not to me, it isn't."

"But—"

"Are you a Waukeener now, that we must bargain for your healing?" Sarevok growled.

"No, of course not," Anomen said. "I will heal her if I can. But Keeta, I need you. I need all of you. Helm has called me here, but I cannot do this alone. I have tried. My lady, please. I need your help. This dream that brought you here—is that not a sign that you are meant to be here?"

"In this state, I am of little help to anyone," I said.

"Let me see what I can do," he sighed. His hand touched my cheek. I had no warning that he was going to touch me and I flinched a little. His hand pulled away.

"Keeta?" He sounded hurt.

"It's okay, it's okay," I said. "You startled me, that's all. Do what you have to do."

His hands cupped my face. I could feel his breath warm on my cheek. Then I felt the gentle brush of his magic.

"Ah, my lady," he breathed. "Helm has touched you."

"No, He touched you," I said. "I prayed to Lathander. Surely this is His light I see." I thought we had just gone over all that.

"Aye, that may be so," he said. "But I feel the touch of my god as well."

"I don't understand."

"Don't you?" Sarevok said harshly from behind Anomen. "I now understand perfectly. The gods do not _compel_ us to follow their direction, as Keldorn has said. But they can give us overpoweringly strong reasons to do their will. Anomen prayed for you to come to his aid. Helm used your blindness to force you to seek him out. Your blindness is the answer to Anomen's prayers."

Anomen's hands dropped away from my face.

"I swear to you, Keeta, I would never wish for such a thing to happen to you." His voice was appalled.

"I know, Anomen. I should be accustomed to being the gods' plaything by now."

"Please don't be bitter, my lady. I am certain I can help you. And my cause is truly pressingly important. Should the being imprisoned here release itself, it could cause destruction and chaos as great as, or perhaps even greater than, the destruction currently being caused by the Bhaalspawn."

"How can that be? What is imprisoned here?"

"I do not know."

"You don't even know what is inside? Yet you expect us to go up against it anyway? Are you mad?"

"The Knights of the Vigil were not told the nature of the Imprisoned One. This keep is an ancient prison, created to hold the most terrible foes of the gods. It had been abandoned many centuries. Helm reopened this place during the Time of Troubles, to house a being so powerful and cunning that He Himself was forced to deal with it directly. It is a being so powerful that He knew that even this great prison would not hold it forever, and so He approached a Helmite sect and set them the task of monitoring the seals that hold the Imprisoned One within."

"And now the seals are failing? It's only been, what, thirty years or so? They didn't last too long, did they? Couldn't Helm have come up with a better place to put this creature? Like somewhere really, really far away?"

"I do not know," Anomen said stiffly. I guess he didn't appreciate my implied criticism of his god.

"Well, what do _you_ think is in there? If you had to guess?" There was an uncomfortable silence. How I wished I could see Anomen's expression. His face always gave his thoughts away.

"Something from the Outer Planes," he said at last. "That would be my guess. There is a statue on the first level of a demon lord."

"A demon lord. And it is roaming loose in there, waiting for us?" It was probably building an army. Why not? Everyone else I went up against was building an army. "Come now, Anomen, do you expect the six of us to take on a demon lord?"

"The Imprisoned One is not free yet. The seals are weakening, but Brother Odren does not believe they have failed completely. There is a ritual to strengthen the seals, but the Knights have not been able to approach the final seal to use it."

"Why not?"

"The creature is still contained but its evil has infested the keep. And apparently the guardian spirits have been corrupted as well. The Knights of the Vigil are a small sect, and many of them are rather elderly. We could not get past the first seal before we were driven back by the denizens that now haunt the place."

"I saw that in my dream."

"Aye. 'Tis a marvel, Keeta, truly—to be given such a dream, and to be touched by two gods! Does that not tell you of the importance of this mission?" The enthusiasm in his voice made me cringe. "I sent a messenger to the Order of the Radiant Heart when I first arrived here, but I have had no reply. In these dangerous times, I do not know how much aid they can send us, or even if the messenger has arrived safely."

"This is sounding better and better," I groaned.

Anomen grasped my hands.

"My lady, I will try to cure you no matter what you decide, but please, I beg you. At least help me past the first seal. Perhaps—perhaps we will find that it is not as bad as the Vigil Knights fear."

"It's probably much worse or Helm would not have forced my hand this way," I said. Even to myself, I sounded bitter. Hells, I _was_ bitter. "I suppose I have no choice. Very well, I will help you, Anomen. I'd hate to make your god think of some even _more_ compelling way to make me do his dirty work."

"Thank you," he said, and he brought my hands to his lips. "While I prepare myself to heal Keeta, perhaps you will show my comrades around the compound, Brother Pol? Will you bring Keeta to the chapel later, say at sunset?"

"Certainly, Sir Anomen," said a voice nearby. From the quavering sound, he was one of the elderly members of the sect. Still, he had braved the dangers of the keep, for I remembered his name from my dream. "It is my pleasure to meet you at last, Lady Keeta," he said. "I have heard so much about you." A dry, thin hand clasped mine. "If anyone can help us fulfill our sacred duty, it is you."

"Just plain Keeta," I said. "I hope Anomen hasn't told you anything too ridiculous about me."

"Sir Anomen certainly sings your praises," he said. "But I have heard of your deeds in Baldur's Gate from our very own Brother Odren, who was actually there at the time of your triumph."

"Indeed I was," said another voice—a voice I also knew from my dream. "I recognized you immediately. They called you the Terror of the Sword Coast. I also recognize one of your traveling companions." His voice was sourly disapproving. "It is most interesting and unexpected to find Sarevok Anchev in your company. It was widely believed that you had killed him."

"Life is full of the unexpected," I said. Like Helmite knights who ran for the exit when their comrades were in danger. Although I supposed he had not deserted Anomen in the end, so maybe I misjudged him.

* * *

"Keep your eyes closed," Anomen said, as we stood together in the chapel. He brushed the hair back from my face and then he held my face in his hands.

I felt nothing at first. Then through the yellow glare that filled my eyes, an even brighter white light exploded in my head. I tried to open my eyes but couldn't. I couldn't feel my body, I couldn't speak or even breathe. I heard a stern commanding voice echo through me. I was falling, falling, and nothingness surrounded me.

"**My ever-seeing gaze is upon you, Child of Bhaal."**

"Helm? Why are You here?"

"**My priest called to Me and I answer."**

"Does my blindness come from You?"

"**For the love that I bear for My servant—for the love that he bears for you—I bring you a warning."**

"A warning? I've already agreed to help with the Imprisoned One. I assume You will give me my sight back, if You want to get any use out of me."

"**You shall strengthen the seals binding the Imprisoned One and that task must be done without delay. You shall aid My servant but that is not of which I speak. I warn of this: The time of Alaundo's prophecy draws near. You will stand before the Throne of Blood. There you will lose what you hold most dear."**

"I don't understand."

"**You will. Steel yourself. I can say no more."**

* * *

I found myself lying on the floor, with my head in somebody's lap. My face was wet. Someone dabbed at my cheeks with a cloth. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. The bright yellow light was gone. Helm's bright white light was gone. Now I saw a dim blurry light. My eyes watered copiously.

I blinked some more. Hot tears ran down my face. Something loomed over me. A face. I was pretty sure it was a face and fairly sure whose face it was.

"Anomen?" I asked.

"She sees," he said thankfully.

"It worked, I guess," I said. "I can't really see too much. Everything is very blurry."

"Your sight will return to normal soon." He brought the cloth to my eyes again and I could see the dark stains. Blood?

"Did someone get hurt?" I asked.

"Blood came pouring out of your eyes," Imoen said, from somewhere in the blur before me. "It was disgusting."

"Blood came out of my eyes?" I asked. Good grief. I didn't feel any pain though. In fact, I felt rather excellently well. My blood was fizzing around in my veins. I felt like I could dance, or do handsprings. Fly maybe. That would be something. It never felt this good when Bhaal spoke to me. Tears of blood. Did that have special meaning? Was it some kind of cryptic message in God Speak? Did it have anything to do with the Throne of Blood?

"Keeta! Did Helm come to you? I swear I could feel His presence, right here, just now."

"He was here all right."

"I knew it! Did He—did He have a message?"

"He gave me a warning."

"What did He say?"

"He said I had to help you. We already knew that, I guess," I said in exasperation. "And He said—" Did I even want to bring this up? "Something about my future," I mumbled. I sat up. I stood up. I could barely see. I couldn't fly. Already the warm fizzy feeling was starting to dissipate. I had a thought—as a priest, did Anomen experience this every time he called upon Helm? If so, well, that would explain a few things.

"Let's start on the keep in the morning, assuming my sight is back to normal," I said briskly. I looked for the others. Through the blur, I saw Imoen and Sarevok standing nearby. Keldorn and Jaheira were presumably somewhere else in the compound. "We'll return to the pocket plane for now and get a good night's sleep."

"You are welcome to stay here in the compound," Anomen said. "There is plenty of room in the barracks."

"No thanks," I said gently, not particularly enamored of the idea of sleeping in a strange room in a strange place with a bunch of strangers. "Besides, I need to get my gear."

"Of course, my lady. Before you go, might I have a word? In private?"

"Certainly, Anomen," I said, with a lurch in my gut. I looked toward Sarevok but I could barely see his face, much less make out his expression. He said nothing. I took the arm that Anomen offered me.

"Let's walk to the pine grove," he suggested. "It is very pleasant in the early evening."

We walked in silence for a while. In the darkness, with the moon barely up, it was much like being blind still.

"Can you see the stars?" Anomen asked, as if he could read my thoughts.

"No. Not yet. Everything is still blurry."

"Ah." I could feel soft needles underfoot and smell the fresh pine scent of the grove. "There is a bench here," Anomen said. "Will you sit with me a while?"

"Yes." We sat, but he did not release my hand.

"I see you wear the ring I gave you," he said. Nervously, I twisted it on my finger.

"I have not forgotten you, Anomen." I thought of him often—guiltily—when I slept with Sarevok. Or, more accurately, after I slept with Sarevok. The need to confess rose up in a wave of shame. My hand felt cold in his.

"I regret—I deeply regret leaving you the way I did. I am so sorry, Keeta."

"I am sorry too."

"When I left—I thought I would never see you again. And now—oh, gods, Keeta, how I wish things were different. But nothing has changed! Helm—I still have my duty to Him. How I wish we could go back to how we were—but that is not possible. Not now. Do you—do you feel this too?"

"Yes," I whispered. For him, nothing had changed but for me, everything had changed. And yet I still loved him. Could this be what Helm had meant when He warned me? I felt tears come to my eyes. I hoped they weren't bloody. I blinked before they could fall.

Anomen let out a breath. Tentatively, he put his arm around my shoulder. I leaned against him. I rested my head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. Anomen sighed again. I felt his lips brush my hair.

"I had hoped we would find our happiness together," he said. "But it seems that your destiny will take you on another path. I always feared this would happen, from the very beginning and yet—I suppose regrets are pointless."

"We have hopes and dreams and feelings. Maybe they are pointless. I don't like to think that they are. There should be more to life than just doing our duty."

"What we dream, what we love—that is part of who we are. Duty is what we must do with what we are or it is our lives that become pointless."


	23. First Level of the Keep

**Ch. 23…First Level of the Keep**

"I don't think I've ever seen a tower with the door at the top," I said, when I had recovered my breath. I had long lost count of how many stairs we had climbed. My calves burned. My knees complained about the weight of my gear.

"It's not actually a tower, as such," said Brother Pol. For an old fellow, he didn't seem to have much trouble keeping up. He led the way, in fact. He was wearing robes instead of heavy armor, but still, he was easily three times my age and he wasn't even breathing hard. "The prison is built into the side of the cliff," he continued. "It is much larger than it appears."

And it appeared huge. We weren't going to be able to whip through this little job in an hour or two. What were Sendai and Abazigal doing at this moment? Were their armies ready to march? Hells, hells, hells.

"Is this the only way in or out?" I asked.

"There are exits on each level, for use in an emergency by the Vigil Knights," Brother Pol said. "They can only be opened from the inside, and only if you carry a holy wardstone, such as the one Sir Anomen has been given."

"So all this Imprisoned One has to do is take this wardstone off our bodies, and he will be free to go about his business. Is that correct?" Anomen frowned at me.

"Oh, no, Lady Keeta," Brother Pol assured me. "Only one in the service of Helm can use the holy symbol. It is one of the safeguards of the prison."

"Oh. Well, that's good, I guess."

"Then if Anomen falls, we will all be trapped inside?" Sarevok asked grimly.

"Nay," Anomen said. "We are all in Helm's service while we perform this task. Any of the six of us can wield the vigil stone. Just as any of us can use the ritual scroll I carry." He gave Sarevok an ironic smile. "My survival is not a requirement for completing this quest."

"Anomen mentioned some guardian spirits," I said hastily. "What are they?"

"Ah," Brother Pol said, but then he hesitated a moment. "When Helm first called us, the Knights of the Vigil, to this place, He asked half of our order to sacrifice themselves. He asked them to become spirits to guard the keep from within and to add their life force to the ancient seals that were already in existence."

I felt the blood drain from my head.

"Helm killed His own knights?" My voice sounded far away. "And turned them into undead guardians? Helm did this? Your god killed His own knights and trapped their spirits here? Forever?"

"They were volunteers," Brother Pol said, but his voice seemed a bit uncertain. "Lady Keeta, are you well? You look very pale."

_You will lose what you hold most dear_, Helm had told me. The god was willing to turn His own most devoted worshippers into undead spirits. Undead! Most people hold their own lives pretty damned dear. Many hold their hopes for an afterlife dearer still. To die for a cause such as this—and to be forever separated from your god in undeath—and yet Helm was not an evil god. What manner of sacrifice was He willing for _me_ to make? Was there anything, anything at all that the gods would not take from me or do to me? Anything they considered sacred?

"Sit down," Keldorn said and he pushed down on my shoulder to reinforce his words. "Put your head between your knees." It seemed like he was often giving me this advice.

"Keeta is a follower of Lathander," Sarevok explained to Brother Pol in a neutral voice. I sat on the step and waited for the dizziness to pass. "Her god does not approve of the creation of undead. It is anathema to her."

"I see," Brother Pol said slowly. "I am sorry that this distresses you, Lady Keeta, but it was Helm's will, after all. We pledged our lives to His service when we joined the sect. He did not ask anything we were not willing to give."

I wondered about that. The little I had seen of the Knights of the Vigil in my dream showed a fairly healthy regard for their own lives. "What god would ask such a thing from His followers?" I asked in a low voice.

"But Lady Keeta—"

"No," I said. "Do not try to explain it to me again for I will never understand." There was a long, uncomfortable silence after that.

I stood up once my vision was not so dark. I had told everyone that my eyes were back to normal, and they mostly were. My sight faded in and out sometimes, mostly when I was upset, for some reason. The first time everything went dark, I'd panicked a bit, but it had only happened a few times, never for very long. My close vision was still terrible but I figured I wouldn't be required to read or sew on any buttons in the keep. My job was to slaughter whatever lurked within. I didn't need perfect vision for that.

"Is there anything else we need to know?" I asked.

"I don't think so," Brother Pol said uncertainly.

"Farewell then," I said, and motioned for Anomen to open the strange door. It was a featureless half sphere, which shone in the sun as if it were made of gold. When Anomen held out his vigil stone, part of the sphere peeled back with a metallic clang, exposing worn stairs leading down into darkness. Anomen put his hand on my arm.

"Hold a moment," he said. "There _is_ something else you should know, but I did not want to say anything in front of Brother Pol. The protections of this place will not permit any gating magic to work inside the keep. You must not try to access the pocket plane from inside. It will not work and it could be dangerous as well."

"Dangerous, how?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps it will draw the guardians down upon you. Perhaps it will weaken the seals further. I do not know what will happen with any certainty, but I beg you not to try it."

"That's just great. We didn't pack food or camping gear. I planned on resting in the pocket plane."

"I do have some supplies, but all you need to do is exit the keep through any of the doors, and it will be safe to use your portal key. Just don't try it from inside the keep."

"I understand." My voice sounded grumpy. It had been thoughtful of Anomen to withhold the knowledge of the pocket plane from the Vigil Knights. It was not in his nature to keep secrets from his friends and I was grateful that he had kept this one for me. "Thank you," I said more softly, and patted his arm. He smiled at me, but his eyes were sad.

"I will lead the way," he said.

The stairs led to a formal entrance hall lined with armored figures. They were statues of knights or warrior priests, perhaps. They looked very old. There were large ornate doors before us and a smaller door to our left.

"Watcher's Keep is centuries old," Anomen said. "This first level was originally a temple, but the deity to which it was dedicated has been long forgotten. The symbols of Helm that you see were added later, by the Vigil Knights. Some days ago, we entered and killed the trolls and spiders that had moved into the temple. Later however, as you saw in your dream, we were driven back by wraiths who ambushed us in the main hall. That lies through the doorway before us. It is possible that there were other guardians that we had not encountered yet. Prepare yourselves for battle."

Steel hissed as swords left scabbards. Imoen cast her stoneskin spell. Anomen readied his shield and pushed one of the large doors open. A huge hall opened up before us. Magical lamps along the walls cast an eerie light.

"I sense the undead," Anomen said. "They are invisible. That is how they struck us before."

"Reveal yourselves, spirits," Keldorn said and he cast his true sight spell. The wraiths flowed soundlessly through the walls to attack us, but now that we could see them, it did not take long to destroy them all. We were much better prepared than Anomen's party of Vigil Knights, that much was plain.

More statues lined the hall, but these were no stylized renditions of knights. They were people, and beasts as well, created in far greater detail than any sculptor could hope to attain. Even their weapons were real. They were living creatures that had been turned to stone.

"Surely these were not Knights of the Vigil," I said. A gnoll or a golem as a knight? Somehow I didn't think Helm was so broad-minded.

"Nay, lady, these are believed to be some of the original temple guardians," Anomen said. "Or perhaps they were the god's enemies, turned to stone as a punishment. This is the gate to the lower levels," he added, standing before a huge round mirror-like portal. Where there should have been glass if it were truly a mirror, there was nothing but a dark shadow. "It doesn't work. We must discover the ritual that activates it. I am told that the secret lies in the temple archives."

At the end of the hall, a huge statue of a priest loomed over a stone altar.

"Here's the book of rituals," Imoen said. She picked it up off the altar. I cringed, expecting some sort of retribution, but nothing happened. "Wow, it's big."

"Can you read it?" I asked.

"It's an old dialect, but yes, I can read it," she said. "I guess we could go through these rituals one by one and see what happens." I shuddered. Who knows what might happen. Just because this temple's god was forgotten, didn't mean it was gone or powerless.

"Let's explore the archives first," Sarevok suggested. His look told me his mind was on the same path as mine.

"Yeah, well keep your eyes open for a bell and ceremonial candlestick," she said. "The book says we will need them."

Imoen was kept busy disarming traps, ancient but still potent. Keldorn and I cleared out a nest of mustard jellies in the kitchen, and we piled up any interesting books or scrolls we found on the tables there, for Sarevok and Imoen to go through.

"What do these wardstones do?" I asked Sarevok, showing him the two stones I had found on a dusty shelf.

"Do they bear Helm's symbol?" he asked, not looking up from the book he was paging through.

"Um. I don't know," I said.

"A gauntlet with an eye," he said in a sarcastic tone, still not looking up. "You've only seen it a thousand times."

"I can't quite make it out," I admitted. He looked up at that and frowned at me. The stones I held were small, not much larger than pebbles. I squinted at them.

"You told me your vision was back to normal." I had his attention now. He sounded very annoyed.

"Maybe I exaggerated a little."

"Fool!" He crossed the distance between us in two long steps, dropping his book and knocking over his stool in the process. He buried his fingers in my hair and yanked my head back to look him in the eye. "Never lie to me again! We shouldn't be here if you cannot see properly."

"I can see fine." He gave my head a painful shake.

"I told you not to lie to me." He paused and looked over my shoulder. He released his hold on my hair. I turned to see Anomen standing in the doorway. His face was set in grim lines. His mace was thrust through his belt and his hand was on the grip.

"Is there a problem here?" Anomen asked.

"No," I said, but Sarevok interrupted me.

"Yes, there is a problem with your healing," he said. "Keeta still cannot see properly."

"It's nothing," I said, giving Sarevok a hard shove with my elbow as I stepped away from him. It was like shoving a wall. He didn't move. "I can't focus on anything small yet. That's all."

"Come here to the light, my lady," Anomen said. He had me stand under one of the magical lamps and took my chin in a gentle grip. He studied my eyes a few moments. "Your pupils aren't quite normal yet but there is much improvement. I believe another day's rest will heal them completely. In the meanwhile, perhaps you should have someone with you at all times, for your own safety." He looked over at Sarevok. "I would be happy to stay by your side for today, my lady."

"Suit yourself," Sarevok said, sounding bored. He went back to his book. I was pretty sure his boredom was a pose. He was irritated and trying to annoy me. It was working, too.

Imoen, Jaheira, and Keldorn, loaded down with books, almost ran us down.

"I've got all the traps, I think," Imoen said. "And I found the bell! We had to kill a ghost to get it. Why don't you see if you can find the candlestick? Our hands are too full to carry anything else. Besides, I think I found some notes about the ritual."

"Sure," I said. I dropped the wardstones on the table. "See if you can figure out what these do."

"Maybe they activate the portal?"

"I tried that already," I said. "Nothing happened." Sarevok raised his head at that and gave me a very ugly look. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something scathing about blind fools, and I added, "I put them on the altar and they didn't do anything there, either." I sauntered to the doorway. "Let's go poke around in the back rooms," I told Anomen. "Maybe we'll find something that actually works."

One of the rooms held the statue of the demon lord Anomen had mentioned earlier. I walked around it, then shuddered and looked away.

"Very disturbing," I said.

"Yes. My lady." I looked up. "I do not like to intrude—"

"Please, Anomen, I know what you are going to say." I shook my head in silent warning but he said it anyway.

"I do not like the way he treats you."

"And now you have told me," I said. "Thank you for your concern but I am fine."

We continued our search with an uncomfortable silence between us. We did manage to find the candlestick, and a key. The key fit an ornate stone door. When I pushed it open, I felt an immediate chill.

"This is a tomb," Anomen said quietly. The room was not dark. There were lights built into the ceiling, like tiny stars far above. It was beautiful but eerie.

"Should we go in?" I asked. In answer, he pulled his mace from his belt and stepped inside. I unsheathed my sword.

"Is that a new blade?" he asked. There was a mural on one wall. I stepped towards it. "Oh, hells!" I turned to see what he stared at with such consternation, but I was too slow. The huge golem grabbed me by the arm and slung me up and away. One of my feet brushed the ceiling before I slammed into the wall and slid down it in a heap. Luckily I hit with my back and not my head, since I wasn't wearing my helm. I lay there a moment, too stunned to move or even cry out. There were two golems, both huge, and they both attacked Anomen.

My left shoulder was dislocated and I couldn't hold the sword. I wasn't even sure where it was. I guess I was lucky I hadn't landed on it. I wasn't wearing my gauntlets, thank the Dawnbringer, and I felt for my belt pouch. I grabbed a strong healing potion and slugged it down. It didn't do much for my shoulder but it knocked the pain down to a manageable level and got me moving. I reached for the morning star at my waist.

"Sarevok!" I screamed, just in case he couldn't hear us fighting, and then I threw myself at the nearest golem. When the Ice Star hit it, it rang like a bell. The golem staggered slightly then casually back-handed me. I was too slow, too hurt, to dodge. I hit the sarcophagus this time, and I stayed down longer. I fumbled for another potion and then managed to drop it. The vial didn't shatter but it rolled out of my reach. I tried again. This one broke. I heard Anomen's mace at work but I wasn't in a position to see anything but legs. My right hand wasn't working too well but my left arm wasn't working at all. I pushed with my feet and tried to crawl close enough to lap the spilled potion off the floor.

Sarevok burst into the room with his eyes glowing, looking as large as the golems and ten times more frightening. He crippled the first golem with one mighty assault, and Anomen finished it off while he tackled the second golem. Keldorn and Jaheira rushed in behind him and in moments, the battle was over.

"Guess what, genius," Imoen said, while Jaheira healed Anomen enough so he could deal with me himself. I was kind of a mess. I'd buzzed in and out of consciousness a few times. Unfortunately I kept waking up. "Those wardstones you found control the golems. If you had looked at them closer, you could have figured it out for yourself."

Great. "Thanks for telling me." I cut my eyes over at Sarevok. He stared down at me with an ominous lack of expression.

"Do you want to hear something funny?" Imoen asked.

"Not with broken ribs, I don't," I wheezed. I wasn't really hurting as long as I didn't move, breathe, talk, blink or think too hard. I hoped Anomen would heal me soon though because I had to pee real bad. And I couldn't get up.

"You know that big sarcophagus you slammed into?" She held out her hands. "You knocked it this far across the tiles. I bet it would have taken six men to move it without tools. No wonder you broke half your bones."

"That's truly hilarious," I said. She made a face at me.

"Here's the funny part, bufflehead. Would you like to guess what I found underneath it?"

"Elminster's pipe?"

"No, silly, some old priest's notes! I know how to open the portal."


	24. Second Level of the Keep

**Ch. 24…Second Level of the Keep**

"Is anything going to come through that portal when it opens?" I asked suspiciously. That was assuming, of course, that the ritual worked in the first place. While I'd slept off my healing, I'd missed most of the arguments about the interpretation of the priest's notes and the ritual. The mulish look on Imoen's face suggested she'd been forced to accept a compromise.

"The portal can only be used by one in the service of Helm, who carries a vigil stone," Anomen reminded me.

"You're sure about that? Absolutely certain?"

"That is what Brother Odren told me," he said.

"I see." I drew my sword and moved closer to the portal. Just in case. Jaheira readied her quarterstaff. Perhaps she had the same reaction as I did to the head of the Vigil Knights.

"Go ahead, Imoen," I said. "Let's see what happens."

* * *

Ack.

"Dammit, Anomen, you said it was safe," I said.

"Technically, my lady, those creatures did not come from the portal."

I knew that. I had to fuss at someone though. Broken statues lay all around us. The ritual had awoken all the ancient guardians in the hall. All of them. They hadn't been mindless golems, either. We had faced mages, druids, and archers, as well as fighters. They had come to life but they had kept the protection of their stone bodies. It had been a nasty fight.

"It's not Anomen's fault," Imoen said. "It's Sarevok's. I told you not to change the ritual."

"The portal is open," Sarevok said. He wiped a smear of blood from his mouth. The portal shimmered like a mirage of water in the desert.

"Yeah, yeah. Do you get some twisted pleasure from doing everything the hard way?" Imoen muttered. "You better listen to me next time. Well, step on through, big boy, let's see what's next."

We stepped on through and found a demon. The demon was huge and it dwarfed its strange flickering cage. It looked down at us. I don't have much practice at reading a demon's facial expressions, but it froze in place like it was surprised to see us.

"Well, that wasn't so hard," Imoen said. "I don't know why the Knights thought it would be so difficult to get to the Imprisoned One. Read the scroll, Anomen, and let's get out of here."

The demon's laugh rolled down my spine like a chunk of ice. In a swirl of colors, it changed from an almost transparent filmy gray to a jade green. It seemed to change density as well as color, becoming more solid as I watched. It still looked rather unpleasantly squishy. For some reason, the squishy monsters always seem difficult to kill. Plus I hate getting my sword all gooey.

"I am imprisoned indeed, but I am not the Imprisoned One you seek. Obviously you are not one of those fanatical Knights of the Vigil, or you would already know that." It strode towards us and peered down. I noticed that it was careful not to touch the sparkling field that surrounded it.

"Ah, god-child," it said to me. "One of Bhaal's, are you? Has your time come already?" Sarevok stepped between us. "And who is your companion? Interesting," the demon said. "A Deathbringer, here? I haven't seen one of your kind in many a long year. Have you been forced into service, as I once was a millennium ago?"

It sure could tell a lot just by looking at us. I hate demons. "Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you here?"

"You do not need to know my name," the demon said. "Here I am known as the Keeper of the Gate. If you wish to pass to the level below, you must ask me to open the way."

Helm had set a demon to guard his prison? Really? This place just got weirder and weirder. "We're ready now," I said. "Open the gate."

"No." The demon laughed. "Perhaps you should try asking more politely?"

"Please, glorious demon of swirling colors, open the gate for us humble mortals."

"No." It chuckled. "Is that the best you can do, god-child?"

"Sorry. Politeness was never my strong point." I shifted my grip on my sword, in case the demon wanted a hint about what my strong point actually was.

"In the name of Helm, you shall open this gate, demon," Anomen said. He approached with the vigil stone held in his hand. The demon laughed again.

"No!" It stretched and showed a lot of teeth. "Ah, it feels good to say that. For a thousand years, I have been bound to this gate, forced to open it to any righteous fool with the proper wardstone. The god who built this prison enslaved me here and Helm, curse His name, bound me again when He took this place over. But the bindings have weakened and I am a slave no longer. A prisoner, yes, but I am no longer a slave." The demon's green color faded to brown, and then lightened to a fiery red. It was fascinating. I didn't know if the colors changed to suit its mood, or if they were random in nature. "If you wish to pass, you must make me a deal."

"What do you want to let us pass?" I asked. I knew the answer but I had to ask. It was part of the game.

"What does any sentient being want? I want my freedom, of course. I'm not going to let you through the gate unless you help me end the enchantment that has kept me bound in this cage. Do we have a deal?"

"Let us pass or you will die," Sarevok said—my smooth-tongued negotiator. I couldn't say I had any basic disagreement with this plan, though. The demon laughed again.

"The walls of this cage hold me here but they also protect me," it said. "If you so much as touch them, the god's power will smite you. Do not take my word for this, of course. Feel free to try it for yourself, Deathbringer. Go on. Amuse me."

"If the walls cannot be touched, how do we free you?" Sarevok asked.

"Nay, Sarevok," Keldorn said. "We will not deal with demons."

"Keldorn, we must pass through this gate," Anomen said. "Our need is urgent."

"We will not deal with demons," Keldorn said in a very final tone of voice. "I will not be a party to it."

"You are as stupid and stubborn as those fanatical Helmites who stumbled in here forty years ago," the demon said. Anomen stiffened.

"Then we cannot complete our mission," Sarevok said. "So be it. We have pressing business elsewhere. Let us be gone from this place."

"But Keldorn," Anomen said.

"Hold, everyone," I interrupted, before anyone else could join in the debate. "I suggest we retreat for now and discuss this matter elsewhere."

"Come back and talk to me when you are ready to see reason," the demon said smugly. Its colors cooled to blue.

"Before we get into a big argument," I said, once we had passed through the portal, "We should go speak to the Knights of the Vigil and find out what they know of this demon."

"We will not release it," Keldorn said.

"Helm requires—"

"Helm does not require me to consort with demons, Sir Anomen," Keldorn said sternly. "Nor shall I do so."

"We need more facts," I said hastily. "Perhaps the knights know a way for us to compel it to obey us. If not, there may be a way for us to destroy it. We won't just turn it loose." I hoped. Sarevok gave me a look of approval.

With impeccable timing for once, we showed up at the knights' compound just as luncheon was served. They were delighted to learn that we had reached the first seal. I was less delighted to learn that there were four more levels. First things first, though. I was starving.

The main course was lamb stew, spicy, and loaded with garden vegetables. There was plenty of freshly baked bread to sop up the juices. There was a large wooden bowl of fragrant peaches in the middle of the table. A round of soft yellow cheese, too. Did the knights eat like this every day or was this a holy day of some sort? I didn't ask. If they ate like this every day, I'd be tempted to leave the pocket plane and move in, despite the fact that Helm and I didn't exactly see eye to eye. I had two large servings of everything while Anomen talked to Brother Odren.

"It is a pleasure indeed to see a young lady with such a healthy appetite," Brother Pol said. I grinned at him. I always ate like a pig for days after a big healing but filling my belly was seldom this pleasant. I hadn't held up my end of the conversation during the meal. I'd left that to Keldorn and Sarevok, who could be remarkably smooth when he chose. Jaheira had taken some bread and cheese and gone out to walk in the pine grove. I hoped she would find some measure of peace there.

Sarevok smiled a little as I licked peach juice off my fingers. I'm not sure what was so amusing.

"Your cook is wonderful," I said to Brother Pol.

"We trade off duties," he said. "We have no staff here. Today is Sister Garlena's day to cook and she has a rare hand with the spices. Her peach cobbler is a treat indeed. Perhaps we can induce her to bake it sometime during your stay."

"Mmm," I said. The conversation at the other end of the table was less satisfying. Brother Odren ignored the rest of us and spoke directly to Anomen. He sketched a layout on the tablecloth and words such as 'elemental labs', 'traps' and 'scepter keys' drifted my way. It all sounded rather complicated. Imoen listened intently. When the time came, she would remember the details.

"If not for Sir Anomen, many knights would have fallen in our last attempt on the keep. Your young man is quite the tactician," Brother Pol said, seeing where my attention had turned. "You must be very proud. He has a bright future ahead of him in the Order, I dare say."

"I'm sure he does, but why is he _my_ young man?" I asked. "He's in Helm's service, not mine." Brother Pol glanced at my hand and gave me a puzzled look.

"I thought I recognized the Delryn seal on your ring," he said. "I just assumed you two were betrothed, especially since—" He caught a venomous look from Sarevok. "Oh, dear me, please excuse an old man's prying."

Of course this fell into one of those natural pauses in the conversation and we caught the attention of the rest of the table. Anomen's eyes met mine very briefly and he flushed. I twisted the ring and muttered something incoherent while Brother Pol watched me with the impertinent curiosity of the aged.

"Can we kill this thing?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"This demon we met. Can it be killed? What do you know of it?"

"Ah, you mean the chromatic demon on the second level. I spoke to it once, years ago. It is a very wicked creature, to be sure. Obviously no one has killed it yet, but I have no reason to suppose it is invincible. Getting to it will be the difficulty."

"We've killed demons before," I said. "But I've never seen one like that one."

"It is unique, as far as I know. I suppose it was originally an elemental demon, but the magic of the wizards who called it have altered it to the being you saw today. According to our lore, the demon has four forms now—ice, fire, air, and slime—corresponding to the specialties of the four mages who captured it. I don't know if this mutability gives it some special strength or advantage, or if it is just an accidental byproduct of the wizards' experimentation. Those wizards, or perhaps the god they served, bound the creature. I wish I knew why the binding has failed," Brother Pol said.

I asked the question that had been bothering me ever since Keldorn had refused to let us deal with the demon.

"Will the demon's death open the portal? Or will that make it impossible to ever open it again?"

"The demon uses a key to open the portal. Presumably the portal's magic is tied to the key, and not to the demon itself."

'Presumably.' Not exactly the answer I was looking for. Probably the best I was going to get, however.

* * *

"We cannot attack the demon until we unlock its cage," Anomen explained, as we gathered by the portal to the second level. "The four mages that captured the demon were bitter rivals. They made four separate keys to the cage, so that none of the others could take control of the creature. All four keys must be used at once. The keys are in the laboratories and are protected by traps and elemental guardians. These guardians are said to be very powerful indeed."

"Brother Odren says that the mages constantly studied each other, probing for weaknesses," Imoen added. "He believes their libraries may hold their plans for defeating their rivals."

"That could be useful. So let's go check out these libraries," I said.

It wasn't quite so simple, of course. The libraries had their own traps and guardians. We managed to kill our way through them without too much difficulty. After Imoen cleared out all the traps, we divided up to tackle the libraries. Imoen and Jaheira took the air library, Keldorn the slime room, Anomen took fire, and Sarevok and I were left with ice.

I looked for Sarevok. He was talking to the demon again. I grabbed his arm.

"I need you now," I said. Once we were deep in the ice library and out of sight of the demon, I turned on him.

"I wish you would stop talking to that thing," I said.

"Why? It has some interesting insights into the Helmites. You should talk to it yourself."

"Demons make me nervous. You don't believe anything it says, do you?" He just shrugged.

Working together, it didn't take too long to look through the shelves and desks. We made a pile of everything that looked pertinent or useful.

"Here," Sarevok said when we stopped for a break. I looked up and caught the peach he tossed me.

"You stole fruit from the Knights of the Vigil. Shame, shame," I said, but I took a big bite anyway. It was juicy and sweet and perfect.

"A gift from Brother Pol," he said. "He took a fancy to you, I believe."

"Hmm." I finished the peach and tossed the pit behind me. "He must have a soft spot for gluttons. Do you have any more?" I couldn't believe I was hungry again but I was. He beckoned me closer. Much closer.

"Perhaps," he said. His eyes were amused but I didn't miss the flicker of something warmer. He bent down and licked the peach juice from my mouth. "I like peaches, too, you know."

"Ah. Do you have a soft spot for gluttons too? Shall we share your peaches?" It was very quiet. All the others were busy in the other libraries. I moved in even closer. Our breastplates bumped. I felt his fingers in my hair. He pulled to keep my face tilted up towards him. "Or will you keep them all for yourself?"

"How nicely can you ask for them?"

"I can be nice."

"Show me."

There's a limit to what a man and a woman can do when they are both in full plate, and kissing is pretty much that limit. Still, much can be said and promised with a kiss. There was heat in his eyes as he looked at me but then he glanced over my shoulder and his expression changed. His smile was cruel and satisfied. I caught a glimpse of Anomen's stunned face before he whirled and stormed away.

Oh gods.

I rapped my knuckles hard on Sarevok's breastplate.

"You did that on purpose."

"Did I?" His eyes glinted. "Now why would I do such a thing?"

"I don't know, damn you. Don't we have enough problems without you stirring up trouble? Anomen never kept a secret in his life."

"So you wish to keep our relationship a secret? Do you truly think that possible? Have you not noticed the watchful eyes of your companions?"

"I—"

"Are you an errant schoolgirl that you must hide your indiscretions from stern parents?"

"I'm just trying to avoid trouble."

"The solution is simple—do not come to my bed. I have not forced myself upon you."

"That isn't what I want!"

"No?"

"No! But what you are forcing on me is a confrontation. I'm not ready to talk about this with the others."

"And when will you be ready? I tire of these games. I tire of being your dirty little secret." He looked at Anomen's ring. "Perhaps I tire of seeing you pine for a man who has left you."

"It's not like that."

"Tell your lies to yourself, if you must. I do not wish to hear them."


	25. Fresh Air

**Ch. 25…Fresh Air**

It looked like the others had gathered in the fire library. I shoved our finds into Sarevok's hands and motioned him to join them. I needed a moment alone before I could face Anomen. I took a deep shuddering breath.

"God-child," the demon said. So much for getting even one stinking moment to myself. I ignored it and followed Sarevok. "God-child!" it said more urgently. Reluctantly, I stopped to face it. It was back in its gray vapory state.

"What do you want, demon?"

"I wish to discuss the terms of our deal, of course. Do you not want my advice in collecting the keys to this cage? I know much of this place. It will not be a simple task." I stared at it and then looked away. It is not a good idea to talk to things you plan to kill. Everyone knows this.

"I have nothing to say to you."

"I see," it said heavily. "You will murder me, if you can. Why, god-child? Does your divine blood call to you so strongly that you must slay all in your path?"

"I will leave you in peace if you open the gate."

"And if I open the gate, what will happen to me? I know why you are here, god-child. You are here at the Helmites' bidding. You will reinforce the seals that hold the Imprisoned One. I do not wish to spend another thousand years locked away alone in this constricting cage. Have I not been enslaved long enough?"

"It is not my fault that you are a prisoner here," I said. "Nor is it my place to free you."

"The god that first imprisoned me here is long dead. The reasons I was placed here are long forgotten. I have no quarrel with you, god-child. Is there no pity in your heart for my plight?"

The demon's colors swirled in—distress? I turned my face away. I did not want to look at it.

"I have no quarrel with you, demon, unless you give me no choice," I said. "Just open the gate and let us move on. There does not have to be death between us."

"I have done nothing to you yet you would leave me here to rot and go mad. Why, god-child? Why?" It burned fiery red like a living flame. "I will tell you why. It is because of what I am. I am a demon, so you think I deserve nothing more than slavery or death. Yet you are a Bhaalspawn! How many would slay or imprison _you_, just because of what you are? How many have tried so far?"

"I've lost count," I admitted.

"Yet you would leave me here! If you feel no pity, do you not know justice? Free me!"

I hadn't heard Keldorn approach. I about jumped out of my skin when he took my elbow.

"You should not be speaking to this creature," he told me in a low voice. "Come away."

I followed him to the fire library and the demon called after me.

"Am I a creature, a beast, so much less than you? Have you no sympathy, god-child? It could be you here in my place!"

"That demon is a master of manipulation," Keldorn told me, once we passed through the towering doorway and were out of the demon's sight. "You must not listen to it."

"I suppose," I sighed. "The thing is, Keldorn, I _do_ feel sorry for it. Were I in its place, is there anything I wouldn't do, or say, to be free?"

"You must not judge this demon by what it says, but only by what it is. It is evil, Keeta. I know this in my heart."

"Yes, but what has it done? It is a demon, so it is evil by nature? That is no different from what people say of me. Is there no choice? Could it not be redeemed?"

"Men's hearts can change, Keeta," he said gently. "Men are not born evil or good, but become so by the choices they make. We can repent our sins and be redeemed by the gods. Even Bhaalspawn have this choice," he said, more gently still. "But a demon is a force of evil. To separate a demon from the evil that created it—to redeem it—ah, it would take a wiser man than I to say if that is even possible. All I know is that this demon before us is indeed evil. If you free it, it will betray you. That is its nature."

I sighed again. He put his hand on my shoulder and led me to the others.

Talking to the demon had lowered my spirits and when I saw the pile of books and scrolls on the table, a great weariness came over me. I could see hours of discussion and argument ahead. I was extremely conscious of the presence of the demon in the next room.

"Let's take all this to the pocket plane," I suggested. "We can plan our next steps from there."

No one disagreed, but when we stood in the moonlight in front of the keep, Anomen pulled me aside.

"I think it would be best if I spent the rest of the evening with the Knights of the Vigil," he said stiffly. "They will want to hear of our progress today. I can meet you all here in the morning and you can tell me what you have learned."

"Whatever you think is best," I said. I felt tears sting my eyes. I wanted to apologize for what he had seen but what could I possibly say? And I could see he had a similar lack of words. We stared at each other and I felt my distress rise up and choke me. He took my hand and squeezed it. I blinked hard before the tears could spill over.

"My lady," he said in a softer voice.

"We'll see you in the morning." I got the words out and turned away. Thank the gods it was dark.

Once we'd eaten and the dishes were cleared away, the books and scrolls were spread out on the table in the common room and the discussion began. I paced and watched the others work. Jaheira was in her element. She was a Harper and accustomed to analyzing data. Keldorn also had much to contribute. Imoen was fascinated by the mages' notes and her memory was phenomenal. Sarevok, although no mage, had a broad knowledge of many things. I was the useless one. I felt increasingly restless and finally slipped quietly from the common room.

I was so tired of being cooped up in this place. Sometimes the pocket plane felt like a place of refuge. Most times, it was a prison. I needed to feel a breeze and look at the stars. My armor and sword had disappeared to Cespenar's secret workplace for cleaning and sharpening, but I didn't need them for a quick walk. I would feel naked without a weapon, however, so I strapped on a spare weapon belt and my morning star.

In my heart, I had hoped that the portal would take me to some quiet, peaceful place. Instead, I ended up once more in front of Watcher's Keep. I eyed the doorway with something close to hatred. This was where I was still needed, or so the portal judged. At least there was moonlight, stars and a fresh breeze.

Some insane part of me wanted to slip inside and free the chromatic demon. Luckily that was out of my power until we recovered the scepter keys. If I freed the demon, my paladin would leave me. Of course, if Keldorn was right, the demon would probably kill me first. So it wouldn't matter that much.

Why were the choices so difficult now? Hadn't my life been simpler once? Or was it only the distance of time and memory that made it seem so? So many questions without answers. I have always hated them.

Would that I could transform into a beast of the fields and run free for a time, without thought or care. I did not have the power. I walked down the stairs of the keep, staying in the shadows in case there were any knights on guard. I didn't see anyone. I didn't want to go towards the compound and risk meeting the knights—or Anomen. Nor did I want to wander through the woods and risk getting lost, or running into bandits or worse, soldiers seeking outlaw Bhaalspawn. The portal key could get me out of trouble but it seemed wiser to avoid problems, if I could. So I walked along the edge of the cliff, following a path that led to a sheltered pasture. If my nose did not lie, this was where the knights kept their small herd during the day. I found a dung-free spot and lay down in the grass with my arms behind my head.

I listened to the crickets and the rustle of the breeze in the grass. My mind slowed and my thoughts drifted to a halt. I heard a night bird call from the trees at the edge of the pasture. I watched the silent movement of the moon and the impersonal twinkle of the stars until my weariness of spirit was overshadowed by my weariness of body. Falling asleep here would be a bad idea, so I used my portal key to return to where I belonged.

Sarevok stood by the portal. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a hard ugly look. His look suggested that he had been waiting there for some time. In fact, his expression was strongly reminiscent of the look I had gotten from Gorion after the events of the night of my sixteenth birthday. That was the night the men in the barracks had decided I was finally old enough to drink with them. I had stumbled back to my room in the wee hours and—well, it had all been very unpleasant.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, taking the initiative. It is best to strike boldly when one is on rocky ground, the battle sages say, and I had been gone longer than I should have. Sarevok said nothing but he walked around me. It made me rather uneasy to have him at my back. "Well, is there?"

He pulled a leaf from my hair and rolled it between his fingers before he dropped it to the floor.

"Have you been lying in the grass with your priest?" he asked. His voice was cold, very cold. I had expected a lecture but not a ridiculous accusation. I gave him a bleak look.

"I am too tired for this nonsense," I said.

He grabbed me by the shoulder as I walked away and he spun me back to face him. His eyes burned.

"Is that where you have been? I saw you set an assignation with him when we left the keep this evening."

"An assignation? Get your mind out of the privy, Sarevok."

"I saw you whisper in his ear! If my mind is 'in the privy', as you so charmingly say, then you are the one who put it there. What other possible reason could you have for sneaking off like this?"

"I needed some air."

"You needed some _air_?" he asked wrathfully. "You flea-brained little fool! You've been gone for hours."

"I needed a _lot _of air."

"Do not give me any further provocation, Keeta." At least he hadn't accused me of lying.

"Or what? Are you going to whip me?" I gave a hard laugh. "Spare me your idle threats." I tried to twist out of his grip but he caught me by both shoulders this time.

"You know I will not harm you," he said in my ear. "But do not make the mistake of thinking my threats idle."

"Are you going to use your Deathbringer tricks on me? Do you think I'm afraid of you? Do your worst," I said. As he continued to stare down at me, some of the anger left his face.

"What is the matter with you?" he asked. "Why are you acting this way?"

I just shook my head. I wasn't sure myself. _I am not happy_. Now there was a childish complaint. What was the point of saying it? Nothing could be done.

So I said nothing and his face hardened again.

"You are not to leave this place without my permission. Ever. Again." He punctuated his words by digging his fingers into my shoulders.

"I am not to leave without your _permission_? I am not ten years old, Sarevok, and you are not my father. What authority do you think you have over me?" The bruising pressure relaxed slightly.

"I chose my words poorly," he said at last. That opened my eyes a little. Coming from Sarevok, that was amazingly close to an apology. "Nonetheless," he continued. "From now on, you will tell me or one of the others if you plan to leave the plane. You must not go alone. You control the portal to this place, Keeta. You put us all at risk when you hare off like—"

"A flea-brained little fool," I said for him. "Don't bother to spare my feelings. I am well aware of what you think of me."

"Are you," he said flatly. "Then you will understand when I insist that you give me your word that you will not do this again. You will not leave this place again, alone, without telling anyone where you go. I will have your word on it."

"I do not care to swear an oath in this place." His eyes narrowed.

"You have a responsibility to all of us—"

"Are _you_ about to give _me_ a lecture on personal responsibility?" I asked. "Now that is an ironic twist. Tell me, Sarevok, when did you make the change from warrior to jester?"

His eyes glowed with anger. I read the impulse on his face even before he raised his hand to strike me. I braced for the blow but it didn't come. He took a breath, and then he clasped his hands behind his back. Sweet glorious dawn, Sarevok had more self control than I had—a lot more. A deep flush of shame washed over me.

"If you do not wish to be treated like a ten year old, Keeta, then refrain from acting like one."

"I'm sorry," I said. I was close to tears—again. There really was something the matter with me. "You're right. I am acting like a fool and I don't even know why. I'm sorry, Sarevok."

"I still need you to give me your word," he said implacably.

"I will try to follow your wishes about the portal," I said at last. "That's the best I can say for now. I do not wish to be forsworn here." I could tell he was not satisfied with that but he let it drop.

I headed off to my room and he walked beside me. I peeped up at his face. It was slightly less grim.

"Did you figure out how to get the scepter keys?" I asked.

"We have a plan."

"Great," I sighed.

Once in my room, Sarevok poured us both a glass of wine. He could see I was too keyed up to sleep, I guess. We sat on the couch.

"Why does the thought of killing this demon trouble you so?" he asked, when the silence grew for a moment. How did he know I was thinking of that? I should be used to his uncanny ways by now.

"As you say so often, I am a fool."

"Keeta."

"Keldorn says that the demon is evil and was just manipulating me, but still! Some god enslaved it for a thousand years. How can that be just or right?"

"Without knowing the cause, how can you judge? Perhaps it is."

"Perhaps. Some of the Harpers tried to imprison me once. They wanted to stick me in a hole in the earth forever, for no reason other than the taint in my blood. So perhaps I am overly sensitive on this subject. Still, am I to believe that the gods are just and right, and it is only my ignorance that makes me doubt them?"

"No. That is not what I said. Why is this even your concern? You cannot solve every problem that you encounter. Do you think this is a world where justice always prevails?"

"Sometimes I wonder if justice ever prevails," I muttered. "But no, I do know better. And I know that this is hopelessly naïve, but I wish the world was different. I try to make good choices. Does it really matter? So much death and destruction follows me, no matter what I do. Like Saradush. I did my best to save the people there and it wasn't enough. I've tried to think what I could have done different. Is there any point to choosing the good when all that comes from my choices is evil?"

"Yes," he said. "It makes a difference to your soul."

I raised my brows at him and then I nestled into the crook of his arm.

"You're doing it again, Sarevok. Is that really _you_, saying such things to _me_? I guess I am not the only one feeling out of sorts."

He snorted. "You cannot say that I lack personal experience on this subject," he said. "Still, I suppose it is rather humorously ironic. Not that I am planning to set up as a jester just yet. I'm saving that for the day that we return to Baldur's Gate together." I stared up at him, astonished, and he laughed at my expression. Sarevok, of all people, just pulled my leg.

I could feel his heartbeat against my ear, slow and reassuring. I began to feel sleepy again.

"If I were a god, I would order the world differently. I'd make things better."

"Change the world, would you?" he asked. "Then you would have every other god's hand raised against you, I suspect."

"I feel like I already do, sometimes."


	26. The Scepter Keys

**Ch. 26…The Scepter Keys**

Back in my armor, with my sword at my side, I felt much better. Too much thinking and feeling always gets me in trouble. I guess I am happier when I stick to slaying. Sometimes I fear that I am indeed my father's daughter.

"What's the plan?" I asked, once we were all assembled in the fire library. Anomen had awaited us in the courtyard and he joined us quietly. His expression was grave and abstracted.

"The slime lab is always full of poisonous gas," Imoen said. "There's a fan in the air lab that we can use to blow it away."

"Why is that important?" I asked. "I'm immune to poison and so is Jaheira. Why do we need to play around with any fans that may or may not work after all these centuries?"

"Yeah, lucky you, and your lovely ring, you're immune to poison," Imoen said. She coveted my ring. Who didn't? "But the guardians in the ice room are not. The slime wizard developed his poison specifically to weaken them. If we blow the poison into the ice lab, it should be easy to destroy the ice guardians. Easier, anyway. According to the slime wizard's notes, without the poison it should be more or less impossible to kill them."

"What about the fire guardians?" Anomen asked. "Brother Odren said they regenerate faster than they can be hit." I made a sour face. I was getting tired of invincible enemies. How about some invincible allies for a change?

"They are going to be the toughest, I think. The ice mage planned to lure them into his laboratory," Imoen said. "It is freezing cold in there and he thought that would slow them down and prevent them from regenerating."

"And how was he going to lure them?" I asked suspiciously. She shrugged.

"Beats me."

"Okay, got it," I said. "The air lab is first. What do I need to do?"

"We're guessing it is full of air elementals," she said. "I've got a scroll of Protection from Electricity. Someone's got to go in and turn on the fan."

"Me," I said, standing and rotating my shoulders to loosen up. "Hit me with the spell." Sarevok frowned at me. I was sure he would rather do it himself but surely he would not be so foolish as to suggest I was incapable of the task. Anomen also gave me a doubtful look which I ignored.

Once in the air lab, I closed the door behind me so nothing could escape. The air elementals were fairly typical for their kind, not hard to dispatch, except for the exceptionally large one. I beat it down eventually.

I looked around for the switch to the fan. In the center of the room, there was a fancy little obelisk that reached about to my waist, and at the top there was a slot. A blue rod was inserted into the slot and could be moved to any of three positions. The rod was studded with dark red gems. I assumed I was looking at the air scepter key.

There were symbols on the obelisk in some script I could not read. Presumably the fan was off now, so I pushed the rod to the next position. Nothing seemed to happen for quite a while. Gradually I became aware of a rumbling feeling under my boots and a faint breeze on my face. Some fan. I could move more air waving a palm leaf. I moved the rod to the farthest slot, then pulled it out and stuck it in my belt.

Maybe I shouldn't have done that. The obelisk glowed blue and I heard a loud grinding screech of metal on metal. Lightning flashed all around the room. I must have been struck ten times, either in the initial blast or in the secondary strikes as the lightning bounced off the walls. Without the protection spell, I would have been fried. Even with protection, the force of the lightning buzzed through me with a weird and unpleasant sensation, just this side of pain. Good thing I had closed the door to the fire library or my friends might have been struck too and they didn't have the protection I had.

I had shut my eyes at the first flash but I was still half blinded by the afterimages. The rumbling sound turned into a roar and the gentle breeze turned into a hurricane. Then a sudden blast of air lifted me and slammed me against the room's second exit, the door that led to the air library. I realized that leaving both doors shut had been a dreadful error. There was too much wind and it couldn't get out. Air screamed through the open grillwork in the door, plastering me to it and deafening me in the process.

If the door had opened inward, I never would have been able to open it against the pressure of the fan. I might have been stuck there like a fly in a spider's web. It was bad enough that the door had no doorknob, just a latch inset into the frame itself. I fought the wind to get in position to try to shear through the door hinges with my sword. When I brushed against the door latch, I felt a tingle at my waist. That was the only warning I got. Mere proximity to the scepter key was apparently enough to unlock the door. It flew open and I flew out. I didn't even have time to curse. I covered my face with my arms and tried to curl into a ball. I hit a very large bookcase and knocked it flat, in a huge shower of books and dust.

Now I had a clue as to why the guardians in this library had been massively heavy golems instead of some sort of misty air creatures.

With more room to play, the wind settled down. I limped into the circular central hall to head back to the fire library. I passed the chromatic demon in his glowing cage.

"You should have asked for my advice," it said in a gloating tone, when it took in my disheveled appearance. I gave it an ugly look. I still felt bad about having to kill it—in cold blood, as they say. But suddenly I didn't feel quite so bad.

"Anomen," I said, and everyone jumped when I came up on them from behind. That amused me for some reason. "Fetch my tools and help me with this." The armor on my left leg was dented badly enough from one of my collisions that it pinched my knee. Although nobly born, Anomen had been forced to squire his way through the ranks at the Order of the Radiant Heart. He had more experience in the field repair of armor than any of us.

"What happened?" Imoen asked. "What was all that racket? Sarevok wouldn't let us open the door to check on you. He said you weren't hurt bad."

I gave him a questioning look. He'd been sure I was safe? He had that much confidence in the link between us? He just raised his brows back at me, mocking my surprise. I leaned against a wall. Anomen knelt before me and loosened the straps of the poleyn at my knee and the greave below it. I winced a little, more at the damage to my armor than that to my knee. My knee was more easily fixed.

"Crash," I told Imoen. I waved my hands. "Whoosh. Boom."

"Do you have to speak in grunts, you big orc?" she asked. "Did you turn the fan on or not?"

"Sorry, I think getting hit by lightning a dozen times scrambled my brain. Flying isn't that fun when you don't have wings." I tossed her the air scepter key to examine. "The fan is on full blast. I hope you got everything you needed out of the air library," I added. "I just now wrecked it." I sighed in relief when Anomen worked the armor off my leg.

"I've never been happy with these poleyns," Anomen said. "How many knee injuries have I had to heal? The plate isn't thick enough. I've told you—"

"You've told me twenty times now," I said. He grinned up at me. I could feel the warmth of his hands through my pants leg as he wrapped his fingers around my knee to assess the swelling. His spell took the pain away.

"I wouldn't have to repeat myself if you would listen," he said. "You aren't always going to have a cleric handy, you know."

Like his complaints about my leg armor, Anomen had made this mock threat many times in the past. We both realized at the same time that it wasn't funny any more. All the humor drained out of his face and I looked away. We had carefully avoided any discussion of what would happen after our work was done here at Watcher's Keep. I knew what would happen. He would go back to the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart or wherever Helm sent him. I would go forward to my destiny, whatever that was.

We got out the hammers and knocked the dents out of my armor. Then Jaheira and I went to clear out the monsters in the slime laboratory.

The stench in the lab was so sickening that it actually stunned me for a moment. Behind me, Jaheira gagged. After a few moments, my nose gave up and died but my eyes watered until tears slid down my face. Poisonous gas belched from the surface of a green pool in the center of the lab. We were attacked by green slimes and mist creatures but there was something lurking in the back of the room that worried me. I caught occasional glimpses of movement but when I turned my head, there was nothing. I had hoped it was some trick of the mists until something struck at the back of my leg.

I turned and found a giant snake rearing over me. It was at least three times my length and its fangs were like daggers. It struck at my face but I dodged. It was no living snake but a construct, made of linked bands of some silvery metal. Its eyes were glowing green gems, like emeralds the size of my fists. Its huge fangs dripped venom. There was another green gem like a crown at the top of its head. Light sparkled off its facets.

Sparks flew when my blade hit the creature but I did no damage. I thought I must have hit it a glancing blow, but my second effort did no better. The shock of my strike ran up my arms but I didn't even dent the metal.

"Hells," I muttered. Jaheira gave the snake a mighty thwack with her staff that knocked it back into the wall. The snake turned on her as the more dangerous opponent. I dropped my sword and pulled out my morning star. The snake reared as if to strike Jaheira with its fangs, but then it twisted as she moved and slammed into her. I couldn't tell if it was trying to catch her in its coils like a constrictor or if it was just using its weight to keep her off her feet. At any rate, it had her down and it was on top of her.

"The head," she gasped. Well, that seemed like a good place to start, so I hit it in the head. My angle wasn't good but I made a loud clash and it rose off Jaheira to come after me again. She rolled out from under it and then leapt onto its back. I had to pull my swing to keep from hitting her. She grabbed the gem on the top of the snake's head and yanked and then twisted it. It wasn't a decorative gem. It was a rod—the slime scepter key. When she pulled it out, the snake construct collapsed.

"How did you know to do that?"

"When it tried to bite me, I looked in its mouth," she said. "I saw the end of the key jutting through." When it had tried to bite me, all I had seen were the gigantic fangs. Jaheira was the most observant person I knew.

"Good eyes." I prodded the snake. "What is this thing made of?" She shrugged. "I wonder if Cespenar can rework it," I continued. "Think of the armor we could make." Perfect poleyns could be in my future.

Tedious work followed. We opened the doors to blow the poison gas into the ice lab. Jaheira and I slew the ice golem that carried the ice scepter key. Then we closed the door to the slime lab and purged the poison from the ice lab. The lab was terribly, bitterly cold. It was colder than the coldest winter I had ever experienced or even imagined. The air was so cold that it actually hurt to breathe.

We lured the fire guardians into our trap by the simple method of attacking them, and then letting them chase us into the ice lab. It was good that Imoen had cast a haste spell on us, for those fire elementals were pretty quick. They were led by a huge golem built in the shape of a fire giant. Well, we'd had plenty of experience fighting those lately. When it fell, we found the fire scepter embedded in the center of the golem's forehead, like a third eye.

Anomen, Sarevok, Jaheira and I each took a scepter key and approached the chromatic demon's cage. Keldorn stood back, the Holy Avenger ready in his hands. His sword glowed with a strong white light. Imoen had hidden herself in the shadows. I pushed the air scepter into its slot.

"The time has come for you to try to slay me," it said. The demon was in its red fiery form.

"I will pass through this portal," I said. I saw that the others had inserted their keys as well. "I offered you life but you chose death."

"You offered me slavery, not life, god-child. May you yourself find such mercy as you offer me this day!"

"Now," I said. We all turned our keys at the same time. The shimmering walls of the demon's cage winked out of existence. The demon wasted no words on taunts. It brushed past me and rushed straight towards my sister. Apparently it could see through her invisibility spell. In almost any battle, it is a good strategy to take out the mages first. I hated fighting intelligent opponents. I yelled and swung at its leg, with little apparent effect.

Anomen stepped in front of it. He wielded the Flail of Ages. It was an awkward weapon to use and I had never warmed up to it, but Anomen handled it with mastery. The flail dealt elemental damage, which Imoen believed would be effective against the chromatic demon. When used well, it could dish out a lot of pain. Anomen made it look easy.

It was hard to hurt the demon. Its various elemental forms seemed to soak up a lot of damage, and it was a hard hitter too. We kept it surrounded and Imoen kept her distance and shouted her spells.

The demon's color swirled to an icy blue. It kicked Anomen and sent him staggering backward. I slashed my blade at its back. The demon whirled.

"God-child!" And then it fell on me like a mountain of ice. "If I must die, your divine soul will lead the way."

Cold. I was terribly, terribly cold. My eyes didn't seem to be working—again. I felt a surge of anger at that, but the cold overwhelmed the feeling.

"She's not breathing," someone said. Someone far, far away. Someone jerked or tugged at my body, wherever it was.

"She's dead," someone else said. Dead? I didn't want to be dead.

"No. While I live, she lives." Something else was happening to my body but I couldn't tell what. Cold was everything.

"Imoen," the voice said. It sounded very insistent. "Call the Slayer."

"I won't do that! I won't! I don't know how." There was a cry, a gasp of pain.

"You know how and you will do it," the insistent voice said. I sank back into the cold darkness.

Then I felt it. A fury so hot, an anger so bright that even at so vast a distance, it burned like a beacon. It was a beacon of blood that called me, like to like. I knew then that I didn't want to freeze. That was no way for a Bhaalspawn to die. I wanted to burn.

Suddenly, shockingly, I was back in my body. My eyes flew open and I gasped for air. Sarevok had Imoen's wrists behind her back with one hand, and his other hand was at her chin, forcing her to look at him. I knew what they were doing. He had called the Slayer from her and now he was sending it back. I didn't know why Anomen had Keldorn in an arm lock, restraining him. Jaheira knelt beside me.

"Control yourself, Keldorn," Jaheira said. "She lives. What is done is done."

Sarevok released Imoen. She fell to the floor and cried like her heart had broken. My lungs burned for air. I started to shake. My whole body was racked by shivers. There was ice on my armor.

"That was an evil act," Keldorn said, but Jaheira interrupted.

"Discuss this _later_," she said. "Keeta is freezing. We must get her back to the pocket plane."

Sarevok carried me to the exit and I managed to activate the portal magic. He and Anomen stripped my armor off and carried me to the bathing room. I screamed when Sarevok lowered me into the hot spring.

"Pull her out," Anomen cried. "It's too hot." They ended up wrapping me in warm wet towels. I shivered and shivered and shivered. Cespenar brought a pot of hot sweet tea and Anomen made me drink it.

Keldorn came in. His look was grave, very grave.

"How is she?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I croaked.

"She'll be fine," Anomen said, but he and Sarevok exchanged a worried look. I couldn't stop shaking. Even my bones felt cold.

"What happened back there?" Keldorn asked.

"The demon used the last of its life force to drag Keeta's spirit through the seals of the prison out to the Abyss," Sarevok said.

"It tried," Anomen added. "Something stopped it. So Keeta didn't die, but her spirit was lost."

"What stopped it?" Keldorn asked. "The seals of Watcher's Keep?"

"Maybe it was the seals," Anomen said. He and Sarevok exchanged another one of those looks. Keldorn saw it too. His mouth tightened. He was not too happy with either one of them, it seemed.

"If not the seals, what then?" he asked.

"Him," Anomen said, and he nodded towards Sarevok.

Keldorn studied the three of us for a thoughtful moment. "Your souls are connected," he said at last. "That is how you knew she still lived, when there was no sign of life in her body. That is why you forced Imoen to do what she did."

"Keeta was lost. I knew no other way to call her back to me."

"Imoen is still very upset. Jaheira is with her," Keldorn said. I remembered the first time the Slayer took control of me. Upset was probably a pretty mild description of how Imoen felt right now.

"I did what I must," Sarevok said. "There was no time to explain. Do you think Imoen doesn't understand that now? Would she have let Keeta die?"

Keldorn just shook his head and left us.

When Anomen finally decided I was going to survive, he took off the warm towels and wrapped me up in a big wool blanket.

"Put her to bed and keep her warm," he told Sarevok. "Wake me if there is any change."

"What kind of change?" I asked but they ignored me. If they exchanged one more look over my head, I was going to hit one of them. Sarevok stooped like he was going to pick me up, but I pushed myself to my feet.

"I can walk," I said irritably and then I almost tripped over my trailing blanket.

"Good," he said. "You're not as light as a feather, you know." I made a face at him.

I stumbled my way to my room. He closed the door. His sudden fierce embrace crushed the breath out of me.

"I will not have you taken from me," he said. Sarevok put me to bed and he kept me very, very warm.


	27. The Elven Madman

**Ch. 27…The Elven Madman**

"It was wrong, Sarevok. I know you believe the ends justify the means, but that is not an argument that the gods countenance," Keldorn said.

"Your god may not. I gather that Helm did not have a problem with what I did."

I quietly ate my breakfast and let the two men argue it out. I wrapped my chilly fingers around my warm mug of tea. My head hurt real bad. We were the only three in the common room and I hoped it stayed that way a while.

"Let us leave Anomen's actions out of this," Keldorn said sternly. Anomen's actions? What actions? What had I missed? "We are discussing your actions. We are discussing the corruption of an innocent girl. You cannot justify what you did to her. It was wrong."

"In my place, what would you have done, Keldorn? Would you have let Keeta die? And me as well, for I have no reason to believe I can survive her death. With us gone, who would stop the remaining Bhaalspawn from devastating Faerûn? For that matter, what do you think would happen to that 'innocent girl' without our protection?"

"I have faith that the gods would have provided a better way to save Keeta."

"For you, maybe they would. My experience is different. I am no paladin, Keldorn. I am in no god's favor. As far as I can tell, the gods expect me to make do with what I have at hand. And I did so."

"I know your heart is in the right place," Keldorn said. "That is not enough, Sarevok. You need the guidance of faith to keep your steps on the righteous path. If you cannot see that you have made an error, you cannot learn from it."

Sarevok looked slightly exasperated. "For what it is worth, I do regret the distress I caused Imoen."

"Imoen is not as innocent as you seem to believe, Keldorn," I said, throwing my two coppers on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe you are being a little overprotective of her. She is not one of your daughters, you know. She is a Bhaalspawn, Keldorn. Jon Irenicus made sure that she knows what that means."

"What is your point, Keeta? Because that madman abused her, it is acceptable for Sarevok to do the same?"

"No. To become the Slayer is a terrible thing and I never wanted it to happen to her. My point is that she is not so innocent that such an action will corrupt her. She is stronger than you think. Ask her yourself."

"I will certainly do so. I know Sarevok believes she would have consented to become the Slayer, to save your life. He may be right. However, he did not obtain her consent."

"Keeta wasn't breathing. Her heart had stopped beating. How much time do you think I had?"

"You didn't try to ask her or explain. You acted. You forced the change upon her." Keldorn and Sarevok stared across the table at each other a long moment.

"Imoen didn't matter to me. I would have done anything to save Keeta," Sarevok admitted. Keldorn nodded.

"You snatched at the first option that came to mind because you were afraid she would die. You let fear rule you, Sarevok. Is this not true?"

Sarevok scowled. "Yes, damn you. I was afraid."

"Fear makes it difficult to make good decisions," Keldorn said gently. "But that is when it is most important to do so. It is our right, nay, our duty to sacrifice ourselves for the greater good. But it is not our right to sacrifice another."

"You need not belabor your point," Sarevok said irritably. He rose and went to the side table to get his breakfast. Keldorn had a little smile on his lips. It made me feel strange to see that secret look of pride as he watched Sarevok's back. It was almost paternal. My own father, Gorion, had been a strict guardian. I had never chosen to walk the path he had laid out for me. Contemplation and study held no charms for me. I knew that Gorion had held me in affection, but if he had ever felt pride in me, he kept it well hidden. I gave myself a mental headshake and went to check on Imoen.

I found her sitting on Jaheira's bed. Jaheira stood behind her, braiding beads into her hair.

"Hey, sister," Imoen said. "How does it feel to be back in the world of the living?"

"Great." I looked around and assumed an expression of extreme surprise. "Oh, wait, I'm still in the Abyss! What went wrong?"

"Amusing," Jaheira said in a deadpan voice. She noticed I was wearing my winter tunic. "You are not well. Your color is bad. You should rest."

"I'll feel better once we get back in the world of the living. How are you doing, Imoen?" Speaking of bad color, I didn't like to see the shadows under her eyes.

"I'm okay. Don't fuss, all right? If you can handle that _thing_, then so can I."

"I know you can." I tried to give her an understanding look and she rolled her eyes at me. "Sarevok is sorry for what he did," I felt compelled to add.

"Not as sorry as he's going to be," she said darkly.

"Keldorn already passed him under the harrow," I said. "But do as you feel you must."

"Oh, I will. Did anyone tell you we have the portal key?"

"No, really? Was it on the demon's body?"

"Um. Well. The demon didn't exactly have a body."

"It did too, and I have the bruises to prove it. It crushed me flat."

"It had a body when it threw itself on you. Then there was a big flash, but it was a flash of darkness, not light. It was like all the light and sound and warmth in the room got snatched away. Then the light came back and you were lying there on the floor, all white and still. No breath, no pulse. You were dead, Keeta. Or something so close to death that it looked just like it. Anomen says the demon burned up its own life force, its body and most of the energy in the room, to take you with it, through the seals and all."

"I didn't know demons could do that," I said. Imoen shrugged.

"You weren't really dead though. It was like that time on the Tree of Life with—_him_." A look of remembered horror passed over Imoen's face. We knew she had not forgotten the mage's name but she did not want to speak it. I tried to remember if she had ever spoken his name.

"Jon Irenicus," Jaheira said.

"Yes," she said with loathing. She fingered the scar on her face, one of the ones he had given her. "We killed him but he didn't really die because he had stolen your soul and you still lived. Now your soul is in Sarevok." She took a deep breath and looked straight at me.

"Sarevok went mad, Keeta. After that demon fell on you and the light came back, you just lay there, ghastly white, like a ghost. The look on his face was so wild. I was terrified. He grabbed me, Keeta, and when I tried to get away, he hit me. He told me to call the Slayer and I was sure that he wanted the Slayer to kill us all. You had fallen and he wanted us all to die with you, himself included. That's what I thought. I didn't know it was to help you. I didn't know the Slayer would draw you back. I thought he wanted me to kill us all." Imoen shuddered. "And when the Slayer rose in me—I wanted to do it," she whispered. "I wanted to kill."

I moved to embrace her, but she shoved me away.

"I told you I'm all right," she said fiercely, so I looked away from her tears.

"So where was the portal key?" I asked, more to change the subject than because I cared about the cursed key.

"It was lying on the ground next to you," Jaheira said. "I picked it up. It's there," she said, pointing to her table. The portal key was a slender rod, made of some light silvery metal, similar to that of the snake construct in the slime lab. It was yet another scepter key. Whoever had built Watcher's Keep had certainly picked a theme and stuck to it.

"What happened between Keldorn and Anomen?" I asked, as I turned the key in my hand. It was a rather humble item for all the work we had put into getting it.

"Ah," Jaheira said, and then hesitated. My curiosity surged to new heights. I motioned with my hands to encourage her words. "When Sarevok grabbed Imoen and especially after he, ahem, struck her, Keldorn tried to stop him. Anomen grabbed his arm to hold him back. They scuffled."

"They did _what_?"

"Keldorn tried to shake him off. Anomen wouldn't let go. Keldorn shoved harder and then Anomen knocked him down."

"You jest." They both looked at me. No, it was no jest.

* * *

When we passed through the portal to the third level, we found a ragged and disheveled elf sitting on the platform. He shrieked when he saw us and leapt to his feet. Sarevok grabbed his arm before he could run away. He immediately began babbling about demons. He seemed to think that _we_ were demons. His eyes rolled in terror. He was clearly mad.

"Calm down, sir," Keldorn said. "We will not harm you." His words, or perhaps his paladin aura, seemed to have some effect on the emaciated elf. He was only wearing one boot. The other foot was wrapped in the raw hide of some creature I could not identify. He had a sack tied to his waist, made of the same hide. The hide stunk, and in fact the elf himself smelled very bad. I hadn't known it was even possible for an elf to stink. Another illusion shattered.

"Broken, broken, everything is broken, all dead. They are dead, all dead, all dead except for me. Lonely, lonely, lonely me." His lip quivered.

"Who is dead?" I asked, at the same moment as Sarevok asked, "What is broken?"

"A maze of lies! Lies and death!" he shrieked. "Demons everywhere! He broke the scepter and called the demons and they came flooding in! A river of demons, a river of blood. I ran, I hid, they died! They died, they died! The demons are everywhere!" He shrieked again, and then he couldn't seem to stop screaming.

"Hold him still so I can try to heal his madness," Anomen said, and then he began his spell. The priest put his hand on the madman's forehead, and when the spell hit him, he sank to the floor. Sarevok squatted beside him, never releasing his grip. The elf's eyes were closed and he sat quietly for quite a long time. Then his eyes opened and he looked at each of us in turn. His face was calmer but he still seemed terribly confused.

"Who are you?" he asked at last. He looked up at Anomen. "You healed me, Helmite. Are you one of the Knights of the Vigil? Or are you more adventurers, come to throw your lives away in this maze of horrors?"

Anomen made the introductions, and the elf said his name was Tamorlin.

"You mentioned demons," I said. "Is this room safe or should we retreat to the upper level?"

"Retreat to the upper level?" He just stared at me, his eyes wide. "Oh, dear Seldarine, of course, you must have a wardstone or you wouldn't be here. You can pass this portal! I can escape this place at last. Please, I beg of you, let us leave here at once!"

On the second level, he stared at the place where the cage had once stood.

"What has become of the chromatic demon?" he asked. "Surely—surely you did not release it?" He looked at us with renewed suspicion.

"We killed it," I said. He looked at each of our faces, his gaze settling on Keldorn at last, as the most honest and trustworthy of our little band.

"You killed it? In truth? Who _are_ you people? Why are you here?"

"We are here to strengthen the seals that hold the Imprisoned One," Keldorn said.

"If you could indeed slay the chromatic demon, then perhaps you have a chance below," Tamorlin said. "Perhaps."

"You must tell us what you know of the level below," Sarevok said.

"I will," Tamorlin said. "But first, may we go outside? I have not been in the open air for—I don't know how long. Forever, it seems."

On top of the tower, Tamorlin stopped. He looked around at the morning sun, the grassland below, and the forest that surrounded us. His nostrils flared. Slow tears dripped from his eyes.

"Corellon Larethian, you have not deserted me, as unworthy as I have become," he whispered.

"Let us go to the compound," Anomen suggested. "The knights can help you."

"I would not willingly enter any building just yet," Tamorlin said with a slight shudder. "Is there no natural place where I can bathe?"

Anomen frowned a little. "There is the brook nearby where they water the cattle."

We followed Anomen through the long grass, with frequent stops to wait for Tamorlin, transfixed by a butterfly, or a birdsong, or a glimpse of a green snake. The brook was shallow and musical, shaded by birches and water oaks. The elf dropped his clothes with no embarrassment and strode into the shallow water. He lay down full length in the water and let the brook flow over him.

I had a feeling we were going to be here a while so Anomen and I set up an impromptu camp. Sarevok kept watch over the elf. The only weapon he had been carrying was a dagger. It had been a fine blade once but now it was so dull and dirty that it would barely cut cheese. For want of anything better to do, I squatted in the grass with my tools and started to put an edge on the blade.

"Is he ever coming out of there?" Imoen asked, after she got tired of pacing back and forth. "That water must be freezing."

"I'll get him out," Sarevok growled. I was afraid he was planning some brutality that would drive the elf back into madness. Instead, he opened our provision bag and set out bread, cheese, and the last of the peaches.

"Food's up," he shouted. That worked like a charm, too.

"Is this for me?" the elf asked, eyeing the meager spread as if it were a marvelous feast.

"We've already eaten," I said. "Help yourself."

"Um," Imoen said, after a few moments had passed. Although clearly starving, the elf ate delicately, almost gingerly. "Were you planning on getting dressed?"

"I will never willingly wear those filthy clothes again," he said simply. Jaheira sighed and pulled her spare shirt and pants out of her pack. Of us all, she was the closest to his size, and even so, her clothes hung on him. He seemed happy to go barefoot, which was good, since we had no spare boots. Maybe something could be found at the compound although, eyeing his small slender foot, I rather doubted it.

He asked the date. We told him. He sighed, and then lay back in the grass and watched the clouds.

"You've been kind to me," he said at last, his eyes still on the clouds. "My memories of that horrifying place are painful to a degree I cannot hope to describe, but I will tell you what I can, to aid you in your quest." That having been said, he relapsed into silence.

"How I and my companions came to enter the Watcher's Keep is a tale of deceit and treachery," he said at last. "The four of us—my sister and my two cousins—were hired by a human who called himself Gerard. He claimed to be the son of a paladin by the name of Sir Wediyer." Keldorn stiffened slightly and the elf noticed.

"Did you know him?" Tamorlin asked.

"By reputation," Keldorn said. "It is news to me, however, that he had a son."

"Gerard lied," Tamorlin said flatly. "But we believed him. He told us that his father had gone into the keep in search of a great relic—the Scepter of Radiance. He asked us to aid him in his search for his missing father, and as a reward, promised us the scepter, if we could find it. It seemed like a noble quest and we accepted. The Knights of the Vigil approved our petition to enter the Keep and they gave us a wardstone so we could pass through the portals. Gerard allowed my sister to keep the stone on her person, as a sign of trust," he added bitterly.

"He led us to the second level so that he could speak with the chromatic demon," Tamorlin said. "It should have made us suspicious that the paladin's son spoke at such length and on such friendly terms with the demon, but we were fools and suspected nothing."

"You had no trouble with the undead and other monsters on the first level?" Anomen asked.

"What do you mean?" the elf asked. "We saw no creatures at all on the first level. We simply passed through the portal. Gerard said there were guardian beasts on the second level, but as long as we stayed out of the side rooms, we would be safe. The chromatic demon told him that the scepter we sought was on the third level and opened the portal for us."

I made a small grimace at Anomen. Our experiences in the keep had certainly been much different.

"The third level is a maze of rooms with interconnecting portals," Tamorlin continued. "When you enter a room through a portal, that same portal may return you to a different place, but there is a pattern to it all, as we discovered. Gerard set us to exploring and mapping the maze."

"And do you have this map?" Sarevok asked eagerly. Tamorlin gave him a disillusioned look.

"Gerard took it, of course," he said. At our downcast faces, he added, "In the years that followed, as I learned to survive on my own, I became intimately familiar with the maze. I will draw you a map later, if you persist in your folly of returning to the keep. I hope my words will change your mind." He shuddered. "There is nothing, _nothing_ that could induce me to go back inside." Tamorlin sat up from his half-reclining position and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"One day, we discovered the body of Sir Wediyer," he said. "And that was the day that our doom fell upon us."

"So he is dead," Keldorn said sadly.

"Aye. His body lay near a huge stone pillar and his sword was thrust deep into the rock itself. I say his body, but there were no remains. I suppose they had been carried off by scavengers. There are many scavengers in the maze. In addition to the sword itself, which I am told is a famous blade—"

"Sir Wediyer wielded the Purifier," Keldorn said. Tamorlin nodded.

"There were bits of armor scattered about, which Gerard claimed to recognize. And of course, there was the Scepter of Radiance. The paladin must have found it before he was killed."

"What is the Scepter of Radiance?" Imoen asked.

"It is a small rod, set with three lustrous red gems. When Gerard picked it up, it glowed with a glorious light. Beautiful, really. Of course, we had no notion what it really was or what it could do."

"Let me guess," I said. "It opened the portal to the lower level."

Tamorlin's jaw dropped open and he stared at me with wide, frightened eyes.

"How could you possibly know that?" he whispered. "Who are you people?" he asked again.

"There were scepter keys on the second level," Imoen said soothingly. "The chromatic demon would not open the portal for us, and we had to slay it and take its key." The elf relaxed slightly and some of the tension left Sarevok as well. He stood beside the elf, watching him, and I knew he would not let him run away until we had the map he had promised us.

"You will understand my lack of trust when you hear the end of my tale," Tamorlin said. "The look on Gerard's face when he held the scepter worried and frightened me a little. Avarice was written plain there. He had promised us the scepter but I wondered if he planned to cheat us of the prize. It also puzzled me that he made no attempt to recover his father's sword. I asked him about it and he said it could remain there in the rock, as a memorial. He said he had no use for it. That struck me as strange."

"Only a person of good heart can wield the Purifier," Keldorn said. The elf laughed.

"That explains it," he said bitterly. "Gerard told us he would give us the scepter when we left the keep. He led us to the exit—or so we believed. He had the map. He lied, of course. He led us to the _other_ portal. The portal in the cavern."

"The portal to the lower level?" I asked.

"That is one of the places it goes," Tamorlin said. He looked down at his hands. "I am not proud of what happened next." He kept his head down, not looking at any of us, but I saw the first tear drop from his eyes. "My sister told Gerard that he must have read the map wrong. But I was beginning to suspect a trick, and I moved into the shadows and watched him. Gerard pulled out his dagger."

"He attacked her?" I asked.

"No. He pried one of the gems out of the scepter. The light went out of the rod and Gerard smiled. Then he pointed it at the portal and it opened—but not to the lower level. He opened a gate to the Abyss itself. Demons poured through the gate and Gerard laughed. My kin had no warning, no chance to prepare themselves. The demons tore them to pieces before my very eyes. And I—I ran away. Corellon Larethian help me, I ran away. And I have been running ever since. Years I spent in that maze, running and hiding, yet another scavenger in that maze of horrors."

"Why would that man do that?" Imoen asked.

"He was no man," Tamorlin said. "He was a cambion. That was why he needed us. The knights would have seen through his disguise. He used us to obtain the wardstone and open the door to the keep. As to why he opened the gate to the Abyss—"

"To weaken the seals," Anomen said. "He plans to free the Imprisoned One."

"I think that must have been his plan," Tamorlin said. "But something happened that he did not expect. A devil named Ka'rashur and his followers were battling a group of demons and they all got swept through the portal together. Ka'rashur found the missing gem from the Scepter of Radiance and recognized it as an artifact of power. Without the gem, the scepter cannot be fixed and the portal cannot be opened to the lower level. The cambion cannot pass through to free the Imprisoned One. No one can."

"Wait, you have spoken with this devil?" Keldorn asked. Tamorlin nodded.

"He is very polite," he said. Keldorn frowned but said nothing more.

"So let me get this straight," I said. "Before we can pass to the lower level, we have to defeat who knows how many demons. A lot of demons. We have to get the missing gem from a devil, and I don't suppose he will simply gift it to us. And then we have to find the cambion you mentioned and take the scepter from him. And fix it." Tamorlin nodded.

"There is one thing, though," he said. "I have the scepter. I found it long ago. It is in my bag." I smiled. "But the other two gems are missing. It is useless without them."


	28. The Maze

**Ch. 28…The Maze**

"Where will you go?" I asked Tamorlin. He had drawn us a map, beautifully detailed, with copious descriptions of the creatures we were likely to encounter. It was a daunting list. We had fitted him out with a pack, a cloak, a long bow, potions and supplies for the road. No boots though. Nothing could be found in his size.

"Suldanessellar," he said. "I must tell my parents and my uncle of the deaths of their children." He sighed. Jaheira and I looked at each other. Tamorlin could know nothing of the devastation of the elven city earlier this year, when Irenicus struck so hard against his former people.

"I myself was in Suldanessellar not long ago," I began, and I told him of the attack. His face grew more and more pale.

"So it is possible that I have lost everyone," he said in a low voice. "All of my family may be gone now."

"I do not know," I said. "Many survived. You must hope for the best."

Tamorlin just shook his head sadly and left without another word.

We had lost much of the day. It was time well spent, but the hours were still gone. Keldorn and Imoen were packing up the camp.

"So does anyone want to get a start on clearing out those demons today?" I asked brightly, fairly confident of the answer I would receive. I was ignored. I noticed Keldorn and Anomen eyeing each other and realized why the tension level had suddenly increased.

"I would like to return with you to the pocket plane, if you permit," Anomen said to me, a little stiffly. Keldorn acknowledged his look with a nod. They were going to work out their differences. Good.

"Certainly," I said, a little surprised that he felt the need to ask permission. I supposed that he didn't really feel a part of us anymore. I lowered my eyes to keep my thoughts to myself.

* * *

"No, no, no," Imoen cried. "If I have to spend another evening listening to the tap, tap, tap of your little hammer I will go absolutely mad. Put that armor down, Keeta. We are going to do something fun tonight."

"But this _is_ fun," I protested.

"Not for the rest of us." I looked around the room. Jaheira openly smirked and Sarevok had turned his back to me to hide whatever expression he wore. Keldorn kept a straight face but his eyes smiled. A rare sight these days. Only Anomen shared my surprise. "And if I hear the words 'poleyn' or 'pauldron' one more time tonight, I will turn into the Slayer and _eat_ your armor, poleyns and pauldrons and all."

She split her glare between me and Anomen. We had been rather monopolizing the dinner conversation, I realized with some chagrin. Perhaps I had been a bit overly enthusiastic at the prospect of using the slime guardian's metal skin to reinforce our armor. Anomen gave her an apologetic shrug.

"I'm open to suggestions," I said. After a quick mental inventory of things Imoen was likely to find fun, I added, "But I will not sing and you can leave me out of any drinking contests. Also, I am not going to stake the Ring of Gaxx in any game of chance or skill, so don't bother to ask." I thought for another minute. "If you want to do anything really messy, you better clear it with Cespenar first. Oh, and if anyone plays any practical jokes on the Knights of the Vigil, I do not wish to know the details. Do not construe that as permission, however."

"Those are all really great ideas," Imoen chirped. "I didn't know you had it in you." I rolled my eyes.

"I don't," I said. "I know you too well. I had to clean privies for a month after the paint bladder incident at Candlekeep when we were kids. And I didn't even know anything about it until the bladders started flying." Imoen laughed at the memory. "I didn't even get to throw one," I added wistfully. "But I still got punished. Gorion said I _should_ have known what you were up to."

"It's not my fault you were so darned gullible," she said. She then suggested we play a parlor game, such as Courtiers or Shopkeepers. These, along with riddle games and charades, had been extremely popular with the monks at Candlekeep. In fact, back then those types of entertainment—the kind that required cleverness—had done much to drive me to spend my evenings in the barracks, working on armor. She began to describe the rules, and to my relief, Sarevok shook his head.

"I will play no game involving a humiliating forfeit or penalty with you, little sister," he said. "Unlike Keeta, I am _not_ gullible. I have little interest in flapping like a chicken or braying like an ass for your amusement."

"So you assume you are going to lose? Tsk, tsk. I didn't take you for a coward, big brother. However, I'm sure I can come up with a penalty more to your taste," she said with a grin. Sarevok shook his head again but he almost smiled.

We settled on telling tales.

"_Not_ a tale we've already heard a hundred times," Imoen clarified. Her look seemed directed towards Anomen.

"That lets me off the hook," I said happily. I settled back in my chair, ready to be entertained. "You know all my stories."

Keldorn began by sharing his recollections of Sir Wediyer, the paladin whose body Tamorlin had found in the maze. Jaheira finally told us the full story of Gorion's encounter with the dragon Firkraag, a tale that was little known outside the circle of Harpers.

At this point, the ale had circulated rather freely around the room and everyone seemed quite relaxed.

"Tell us a bawdy tale, Anomen," Imoen said.

"What makes you think I know any?"

"Now don't be coy," she said. "I'm sure you know plenty. Tell us about that time when you were a squire and you were drinking in the Copper Coronet with a cleric from the Temple of the Morninglord. I forget his name. Why were you young priests drinking in such an ungodly dive anyway?"

"We couldn't afford better. Hush, Imoen. This is not a tale that will interest anyone."

"Sure it will. Hey, you're turning red! That's so cute. So anyway, your friend got called to a birthing gone wrong. Like a true friend, you kept him company. Two are safer than one in that part of town. You two were led to a big fancy house right in the middle of the slums. Speaking of gullible! Didn't it make you suspicious that they dragged some half-drunk kids out of a seedy tavern instead of sending to the temple for help?"

Anomen frantically motioned her to be quiet but she kept on talking, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"How long did it take you to realize it was a brothel, Anomen, and not just the home of a big family with a lot of daughters and a lot of serving maids?" She giggled.

"Imoen, please!"

"And your friend was so drunk that he had forgotten all his spells. But you remembered some of yours and you were able to save the mother and her baby too. She was so grateful that she wanted to name her son after you."

"That's enough, Imoen!"

"And you were afraid those stuffy paladins at the Order of the Radiant Heart would find out that you had been frequenting a brothel—"

"I had _not_ been _frequenting_ that brothel, Imoen. That was my first time there! I didn't even know what it was at first."

"Sure, Anomen. So why didn't you just tell the paladins that? Hmm? I'm sure they would have believed you. Instead you decided to give her a false name. But you were too drunk to think of anything, so you told her your name was Keldorn!"

"Imoen! You made that up, you vile girl." He gave Keldorn a stricken look, but the paladin just chuckled and shook his head at Imoen.

"I only made up the last part," she said. "You told me the rest yourself."

Anomen's face was still flushed but he laughed.

"And see if I ever tell you anything again, you minx."

* * *

My face ran with sweat and my blade ran with blood. Who knows how long we might have wandered lost in this maze without the map that Tamorlin had drawn us? Many of the rooms were featureless copies of each other. Most of them were occupied. None of the occupants were friendly, not when they saw our weapons and gear. Some of the creatures were battling each other, but it didn't matter. We waded right in and slew them all.

We found the stone pillar where Sir Wediyer had embedded his famous sword. Keldorn retrieved it for eventual return to his family. Soon afterwards we killed a demon lordling named Tahazzar and on his body we found the first of the missing scepter gems.

After each small battle, Keldorn, our demon expert, explained to us what the creatures were and what special abilities they possessed. Some of these demons were types I had never seen before. We killed balors and cornugon, succubi and glabrezu, pit fiends, alu-fiends and hordes of imps and quasits. We made heavy use of our potions of healing and protection. This was not the time to stint on supplies. It was my hope to clear the way to the exit. Not that I expected it to stay clear for long—the demons were everywhere.

"I am weary," Jaheira said. We had picked a relatively carnage-free spot for a food break. I would have said lunch break but I had no clear idea of the time. For a follower of Lathander, I had seen far too few dawns lately and my inner clock was completely confused. I made a quick apologetic prayer to my god. Luckily he wasn't as picky as some gods about having his rites observed, but still. I was surely pushing my luck and we had yet to meet the devil that Tamorlin had warned about.

"Too much death," she said. Jaheira's face was pale and drawn. Keldorn also looked fatigued. His mouth was set in a stern line and he had little to say. I knew that he killed from a sense of duty and that he derived no pleasure from the destruction of evil. It was something he did because of who he was. I was not tired. I was energized. I found the killing satisfying. The guilty pleasure I felt when I killed weighed down on me more than the deaths themselves sometimes. It was wrong—but it was part of who I was.

"We are nearing the portal, according to the map," Sarevok said. He moved closer to me, not touching, but closer. I wondered what was showing on my face. Sometimes I wished I could hide my feelings behind a mask, like he could.

"Assuming that elf wasn't misleading us with false directions," Imoen said darkly. I wasn't worried about that. Keldorn would have sensed deception, I was certain. "Or maybe he just made a mistake," Imoen added. _That_ was what I was worried about. Still, we were committed to this course, and so far the map had proven accurate.

Soon after our break, we met the devil Ka'rashur. He seemed interested in talking but we were not particularly interested in listening. We killed him and all his followers. As Tamorlin had told us, the devil had one of the scepter gems. So now we had two of the three.

"I don't understand how this devil has survived for so long," I said. "Tamorlin said he had been here for years. It seems to me that the demons had him vastly outnumbered."

"The demons must be poorly organized," Sarevok said. "If they had worked together, surely they would have defeated him long ago, as you suggest. I know you feared that the Imprisoned One was building an army, but if so, they have no leaders."

"Or too many leaders," Anomen added. Sarevok nodded his agreement.

"That is very likely," Keldorn said. "They have probably been fighting to establish dominance. It is difficult for demons to work together cooperatively. It goes against their very nature."

In one of the next rooms, we ran into a small party of tieflings. I stopped in dismay. These were not monsters but people like us. They stared at us with equal dismay. We had traveled with a tiefling for a short while, the bard Haer'Dalis, and the thought of attacking these outsiders did not sit well with me. Keldorn, who was in the lead, also stopped and held up his hand to show we wanted peace. He did not judge them evil, it appeared.

"Primes," one of them spat. "Deceitful servants of the cambion, no doubt."

"We have no quarrel with you, strangers," Keldorn said, but they did not listen. They attacked. I crossed swords with one of the men, a dual wielder with two deadly little blades. He moved with the same lithe speed that made Haer'Dalis an unexpectedly dangerous opponent. Fortunately for me, the bard had given me some pointers in countering the two weapon style.

"We are here to repair the portal and move on," I shouted. "We are not your enemies."

"Why should we believe you?"

"Why shouldn't you?"

"Because everyone in this place lies!"

"Now that just isn't true," I said indignantly. The tiefling suddenly disengaged and leapt back from me. I realized he was laughing. He reminded me very much of Haer'Dalis when the fey mood was on him.

"Hold, friends," he shouted. "Let us talk to these mad Primes for a moment."

Everyone withdrew from battle and Imoen disrupted her spell with a grimace.

"You must be new to this place," the tiefling said. "These are my friends, but you will forgive us if we do not share our names. We have seen too much fell magic in this place to be overly trusting."

"I understand," I said, though I didn't exactly. I wasn't sure what harm he thought I could do with a name. But I was no mage.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"This is a prison called the Watcher's Keep," I said.

"Yes, but where is it?"

"We're in Tethyr," I said. They all looked blank. "Faerûn," I added. No improvement. "The planet is called Abeir-Toril," I said at last.

"Oh." He cocked his head a little. "This is the Material Plane, right?"

"Right," I said and he gave a little breath of disappointment.

"I thought so. Tell me what you know of the portal," he said. "What are your intentions?" He cocked his head at me again. I mimicked his motion.

"I think maybe you should tell me how you come to be here first."

"We were drawn through by the cambion, of course. Through the portal that you claim you are here to repair. The cambion used it to bring forth his allies." He gestured towards his friends, "Occasionally strays such as us were brought through as well. As you probably know if you have made it this far, he accidentally pulled the devil Ka'rashur to this place. That mistake cost him dearly. In the Blood War that followed, the key to the portal was broken and lost. Now no one can pass through it."

"We are trapped here," one of the other tieflings said.

"Yes," said the first tiefling. "The cambion asked us to find the key for him but we refused. We have seen how he treats his allies. Why do you wish to open the portal? Are you in his service after all?"

I glanced over at Keldorn, who nodded. So far, the tiefling had spoken honestly.

"No," I said. "We plan to go to the lower level of the prison and strengthen the seals that hold the Imprisoned One. The portal should never have been connected to the Abyss. The cambion did that for his own purposes." The tiefling nodded.

"Yes," he said. "We know. He gathers troops to defeat the monsters of the lower level. Also, he claims that the seals that bind this place are weakened every time he draws upon the Outer Planes. He is planning to free his prince, of course. If the key had not been broken, his prince would already be free. How that infuriates him!"

"His prince?" I asked with a sinking feeling.

"Why, yes. You know this place is a prison. Surely you know who the prisoner is? He is Demogorgon, the Prince of Demons."


	29. The Cambion

**Ch. 29…The Cambion**

For the moment, I was beyond words. I turned and gave Anomen a good hard stare. He got us into this, or more accurately, his god did.

"They didn't know," Anomen said. "I swear to you, Keeta, the Knights of the Vigil never told me who was imprisoned here. We were not concealing this from you."

"I believe you," I said. They hadn't told him. Whether _they_ knew or not was open to question. "But Helm knew. He could have warned us, don't you think?"

"Does it really matter?" Sarevok drawled. "We knew the Imprisoned One was mighty or this elaborate prison would not have been required. The seals have not failed yet. We will not have to face him."

"You will have to face Aesgareth," the tiefling said. At my questioning look, he said, "The cambion. He is formidable."

"Where is he?" I asked.

"In the cavern. He dares not leave the portal unguarded until he regains the scepter key, for fear someone like you will find it first."

"According to the map, we should be pretty close. Shall we press on?" I asked the group. Weary nods all around.

"A powerful wraith and his slaves guard the entrance to the cavern," the tiefling said. He looked around at his own group for confirmation. "Would you care for our assistance against them and against Aesgareth himself?"

"That would be great."

I hate the undead. There is something so wrong, so fundamentally unnatural about any kind of animated corpse or spirit that it literally makes my flesh crawl. One of the big arguments I had with Anomen was his insistence that Sarevok was some kind of undead abomination when I knew in my heart that he was truly alive. I knew undeath when I saw it. So it gave me a great deal of satisfaction when we faced the wraith and Anomen raised his hands. His god's power filled him, overflowing as a bright white light that cast harsh shadows behind us and a blinding glare before us. The wraith and his slaves froze in place—and then they were simply gone, their animating force destroyed.

Anomen's eyes were closed, his expression ecstatic. It was just such an experience, just such a look that had made me fall in love with him in Athkatla, seemingly so long ago. I would never forget the first time I had seen the god's power spill out of him, and how it had made wrong things right again.

The light faded from his hands. Anomen opened his eyes and looked straight at me, as if he had sensed my thoughts. The raw emotion I saw in his eyes made my heart clench tight inside me with an almost physical pain. I shouldn't have looked. He turned away.

"Do not move," one of the tieflings said. "This place is trapped." It was indeed.

"What can we expect from Aesgareth?" I asked, once the traps were disarmed and we stood before the next portal.

"He is a powerful fighter. Don't bother using your spells on him for he is all but immune. Let him feel your blade," the dual wielding tiefling said with a laugh. "He has half a dozen tieflings with him and his hunting cats as well. Some of the tieflings are spellcasters, so be prepared."

"You don't have to fight your fellow tieflings," I said. "You can wait here for us, if you choose."

"They are no comrades of ours," he said simply. "If they stand with Aesgareth, they can fall with him."

We prepared as best we could and then stepped through the portal. We found ourselves in what appeared to be a natural cavern, complete with stalactites, stalagmites, and a tiny trickle of a stream. A large cambion turned to us in surprise. He was tall—as tall as Sarevok—and heavily armored. A signal of his hand caused his companions to spread out defensively. Aesgareth put his hand on his sword hilt but did not unsheathe his weapon.

"Larienon, my dear fellow, have you come to join us at last?" he asked smoothly. "And who are these Primes you have with you?" His eyes rested on Anomen and his lips slowly formed a smile.

"Ah," he breathed. "A Helmite. You are strangely delayed, my dear knight. I have been expecting one of your order for oh these many years now. How oddly derelict in your duty, you fellows are. Really, one would expect something closer to actual vigilance in the Knights of the Vigil. What a disappointment for Helm, I am sure."

There was a time when taunts such as these would have driven Anomen into a rage, but he had matured since those days.

"We have come to end your perversion of this place," Anomen said steadily.

"Oh, dear me, what a vulgar sentiment, and how crudely expressed. But you are a Prime and I can expect no better. Tell me, my dear knight, have you brought the scepter key to the portal behind me, by chance? I would be so grateful if you would simply hand it over and let me be on my way."

"I think not," I said. The cambion twisted to look at me and his smile widened.

"How very interesting. A dark god's mongrel, come to play. Who was your sire, mongrel? Talos? Cyric?"

"Bhaal," I said, and I gave him a shark-like grin.

"Bhaal? Indeed. I've been side-tracked too long in this accursed prison. Has the time of Alaundo's prophecy come so soon? I hope I have not missed too much of the entertainment." He shook his head a little. "How I regret agreeing to attempt this frustratingly fruitless quest." He took a step forward and I raised my sword.

"Let us not be hasty, daughter of Bhaal. Have you come to murder me then?"

"Looks that way."

"Before you make the attempt—and I warn you not to underestimate me—will you not listen to a proposal? I imagine your allies are thin on the ground by now." He took another look at my group and raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Every hand is against you, no? And this shall only grow worse as the prophesied hour approaches. Allow me to offer you an alliance worthy of one of your blood."

"I don't need your help." I took a step towards him. He held out his hand.

"I offer an alliance with my lord," Aesgareth said. I laughed. "No, think a moment, Daughter of Murder. The gods are forbidden to intervene in this little contest of yours, but my prince is under no such constraint. Release Demogorgon! You want an army? We can gate you in a horde. I can promise you weapons and artifacts of great power! Consider the advantages this alliance can bring you. And do not forget that having strong allies in the Abyss will be of great benefit to you—and your currently deceased sire—in the time to come."

"No deal," I said.

"I see," he said slowly. "Sorry I am to hear that but perhaps—"

And before he finished talking, the room went black. I was such a fool. They had been preparing this spell while he made his false offer.

"Block the portal," I yelled. "Don't let him escape!" I hoped Jaheira and the tieflings could still see through this unnatural darkness. I had no doubt that Aesgareth had the final gem we needed and I didn't fancy hunting him through the maze. There was a confused scuffle and someone yelped. By the gods, I hated being blind.

"My Lord Torm, dispel this darkness," Keldorn shouted, and in moments I could see again.

Aesgareth had not escaped through the portal. He had taken Imoen hostage. He held her pressed up against his body, with his hand around her throat so tightly that she gasped for breath and her face was red.

"This mission has been a disaster from start to finish," he said conversationally. Imoen struggled, and the cambion shook her by the neck like she was a naughty kitten. "I have suffered enough in your service, my prince," he shouted to the broken portal. "I do apologize for failing you. Another time, perhaps."

"Let her go," I growled.

"Release her I will, once I have left this odious prison. I do indeed regret this course of action, but it was your choice to be unreasonable."

"I can be reasonable," I said.

The cambion continued to smile. "I doubt that. I doubt that very much. Did you kill the chromatic demon on the upper level, or did it disobey me and allow you to pass?"

I blinked at this change of subject. "We killed it," I said.

"Vandals," he sighed. "It was absolutely unique. I would have gladly added it to my collection. Not only must I relinquish any hope of reward from my prince, but I shall have to leave this place empty-handed as well. So be it. Come, little mage," he said to Imoen. "Come, friends," he said to his companions. "Let us depart."

"You cannot leave the keep without a wardstone," Anomen said. The cambion smiled again.

"Thank you for reminding me, dear knight, but I do in fact possess a wardstone. None of us can use it but I am certain that it will work properly for your pretty little mage here."

Imoen gave me an anguished look and I stepped towards her. The cambion tightened his grip and she choked.

"Stand away," the cambion warned. "I can snap her neck, you know. Please do not force me to do anything so uncivilized."

It wasn't his words that made me back up and urgently signal my companions to step back as well. It was the warning tingle of power that I felt and the taste of rage on the back of my throat. Imoen gave me one more desperate look and then she called the Slayer.

Aesgareth was totally unaware that he held his doom pressed to his side. He looked wildly about when he heard the frightened gasps of his companions. And then the pretty little mage bit off his hand.

"Two of you?" he cried. Those were his last coherent words.

The hunting cats tried to protect their master. I killed one and Sarevok the other, while Imoen—the Slayer—was still busy with the cambion. Aesgareth's tieflings immediately threw down their weapons in surrender, and I heard Keldorn ask our tieflings to guard them.

"Call her back, Sarevok!" I cried. He gripped my shoulder to keep me from going to her.

"It is too late," he said urgently. "She has tasted blood. She is already lost to the Slayer. We must go through the portal now. Leave the cambion's allies here and let her slake her bloodlust on them until the Slayer passes."

"Sarevok, no, call her back!"

"I cannot!"

"You can. You did it before. You called me back."

"I am not linked to her as I am to you. It is too late."

I stared at the Slayer in fascination. Huge, powerful, horrifying, one's worst nightmare come to life—these were all words people used to describe Bhaal's avatar. And yet—and yet—power shone through her with terrifying beauty. The Slayer was the very embodiment of murder, and in its own way, it was perfect. I had never understood that before.

The Slayer turned to me and stared a long moment. Then her claws flexed. She could smell the taint on me, as I smelled it on her. We were both Bhaalspawn—but there could only be one. In the end there could only be one. Only one.

I pushed Sarevok back as hard as I could and then I let the blackness that I hated with every fiber—with _almost_ every fiber—of my being fill me. I called upon all the rage, all the bloodlust, all the secret desire for murder that I had held back, hidden, and despised. I called upon my father's blood and I felt my heart pound as the fury filled me. There could only be one and _I_ was the more powerful. _I_ was Bhaal's successor, _I_ was the Child of Murder, and _I_ was the Slayer. I, and no other.

Imoen shrieked as I ripped the Slayer from her and slammed her back into her own true shape. She collapsed next to what remained of the cambion. I dropped my sword. Power swelled in me. I shook off my gauntlets as my hands turned to claws.

**You begin to truly understand. **

Yes, but I didn't want to understand. Gaining my father's approval had never been one of my goals. I whirled upon Sarevok and threw myself on my knees. I couldn't speak but he knew what I needed. He had already stripped off his gauntlets. He took off my helmet and buried one hand in my hair and laid the other on my throat. He called to the Slayer, but for the first time, it resisted. I clasped my hands—my claws—behind my back for fear of what I might do.

"Help me, Keeta." I heard the words but they made no sense. Help him? How? Why? Was this not what I was meant to be?

"Her eyes, oh gods, look at her eyes." Anomen said in horror. Part of my mind processed this. Was something wrong with my eyes? Again? But I could see. The world was red but I could see it just fine.

The world was red. Like blood, the world was red. Blood. Blood was the key.

"Call on your god," a voice said in my ear. My god? Who was my god? Was my father my god? Was I my own god?

No.

I was no god.

No.

My lips moved silently to form the words of the prayer that I had painfully scribed on my first prayer card when I was nine and old enough to choose my own god. My lips formed the words that I had embroidered in clumsy stitches on the sampler that had hung above my bed in Candlekeep when I was a youth. The words that I said at every dawn I greeted, child, youth and woman. I felt Lathander's light enter into me. His power drove the blood out of my eyes.

Sarevok pulled me to my feet. He gazed down at me a long moment.

"You stupid little fool," he growled, and he shook me like a wet dishrag. "Have you completely lost your senses?"

"I think so," I said foggily. I sagged in his arms until my brain started working again. "Imoen," I said. "How is she?"

Jaheira and Anomen had pulled her away from the messy corpse.

"She's unconscious," Jaheira said. "I cannot rouse her."

"Will she be okay?" I asked. Jaheira just flicked her eyes towards me and did not answer.

"Okay," I said. Brain, start working, I told it. Now. "Anomen, can you carry her?" He nodded. Sarevok was stronger but I needed my warrior. "Larienon, what should we do with these other tieflings?" The dual-wielding tiefling gave me a strange look.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Should we kill them or free them?" I asked impatiently. Just because my brain wasn't working well was no excuse for everyone else to act like idiots.

"Ah—free them, I suppose."

"Yes, free us," one of them had the temerity to say. I gave each of them a hard stare.

"Fine," I said. "You are free. Cross me and you will surely die." Their faces told me that they believed me. Good.

Someone had to check the cambion's body—what was left of it—for the scepter gem. Who amongst us was the least squeamish?

That would be me.

Once I had the gem, Keldorn took the map and guided us back out of the maze. Sarevok and I guarded the others but we met no demons. Either we had killed them all (unlikely) or they were avoiding us. In any event, we escaped the keep with no incident. Once outside its restrictive magics, I turned to Larienon.

"I'm going to keep this brief because I am in a tearing hurry," I said, casting a worried look towards Imoen, who had not stirred once. "We are on the Material Plane. I do not know how to return you to your homes. I'm sure there is a way but I do not know it. Down there is the compound of the Knights of the Vigil. They might be able to help you. I don't know." I pointed out the compound.

"But where are you going? Can't we go with you?"

For a moment I was tempted. More fighters would be helpful, wouldn't they? But no. Bringing strangers to our only refuge seemed fundamentally wrong.

"You can't go with me," I said. "But listen. If you can make it to the city of Athkatla, seek out the playhouse in the Bridge District. I have a friend there. He is a tiefling like you. His name is Haer'Dalis. If there is a way for you to go home, he will probably know it."

"Haer'Dalis?" one of the tieflings asked. "Not the actor from Sigil?" I nodded. The group of tieflings looked at each other rather warily, and then they moved down the stairs towards the compound of the Knights of the Vigil. Would the knights accept them and help them? Would the tieflings travel peacefully together or would they kill each other off? I wasn't sure I cared that much either way. Once they were out of sight, I teleported us to the pocket plane so we could tend to my sister.


	30. Descent

**Ch. 30…Descent**

"Can you fix this thing or not?" I asked. The scepter and the three red gems winked up at me from the table in Imoen's bedroom.

"Can you stop breathing down my neck or not?" Imoen replied. "Stop pestering me. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," I snapped.

She glared at me again. "To answer your question, yes, I can fix the scepter. But if I put the gems in wrong, it might open a portal to somewhere unexpected. Get it? So leave me alone and let me figure it out. Bye. See ya."

"It's just that I was worried about you after last night."

I recoiled from the venomous look she cast me. "Were you," she said flatly.

"Imoen?"

"Don't 'Imoen' me," she said. "You hurt me last night. You hurt me bad. And I know why you did it."

"The Slayer always hurts, Imoen."

"No," she said. "It doesn't. It feels good. Sarevok says that the Slayer hurts _you_ because you are so special and pious." She snorted. "He thinks Lathander gives you the pain so you don't learn to like the Slayer too much. It didn't hurt me until you snatched it away."

"I didn't know you had been talking to Sarevok about the Slayer."

"Well, I have. No one else will talk about it. Besides he knows a hell of a lot more than you do."

"But Imoen, did you want to stay in the form of the Slayer and maybe kill some of us?"

"No. I didn't. But let me tell you something, Keeta. You tore the Slayer out of me like I was nothing. Like I didn't even exist. And you didn't do it to _save_ me either. Sarevok thinks you're all holy and noble and compared to him I guess you are. I know better. You wanted to keep the Slayer all to yourself. You better watch out or you're going to end up building a temple to yourself just like Yaga-Shura."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it? Why is Sarevok so worried then?"

"He isn't."

"You think not? You really are a fool, aren't you? He will never admit it but he's scared to death that you are going to turn into a god and leave him behind. I don't think he fancies the idea of becoming your head priest and leading prayers in your holy name. Don't expect me to lead your cult either. Maybe you can convert Anomen."

I hadn't slapped my sister since we were little kids but the urge to do so now almost overwhelmed me.

"I'll tell you another thing while we're at it," she said. "I know what you're up to. I think everyone does." I stared. "You and Sarevok. Where is he? Why don't you drag him off to your room and do whatever it is that you two do that gets you so relaxed. And I don't want to know what that is. Ever. I sure hope you're taking precautions or your little brat won't know whether to call him Daddy or Uncle."

Suddenly Imoen put her hand over her eyes.

"Gods, Keeta, I'm sorry," she said, close to tears. "I didn't mean to say all that. I just lost control of my tongue. I wish I could bite it off now."

"It's okay," I said automatically, close to tears myself. I wasn't sure it was okay though. I was too stunned to know. "But Imoen, I never meant to hurt you. I won't say you're wrong, what you said about me. The Slayer really does drive you mad, I think. But I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," she said. "But what you _mean_ and what you _do_ are two different things, aren't they? I'm just so tired of being treated like I'm _nothing_. I'm tired of being the spare Bhaalspawn. I don't want to talk about it anymore. So go find something to do and let me fix this damned key so we can finish this damned quest and get the hells away from this damned prison. Okay?"

* * *

Tamorlin had been right. The Scepter of Radiance, restored to its full potency, was indeed a beautiful sight. It unlocked the portal. No screaming horde of demons came flowing through. So that was good. We stepped through, to find ourselves in a great golden hall, in the midst of a battle. It was easy to choose sides.

"Kill the illithids," I shouted. Gods, how I hated those brain-sucking monsters. Frankly, they terrify me, with their potent mind powers that can turn your brain to mush and those horrific tentacles that can so quickly suck out the mush through your eyes or ears or nose. There were only a few, and we surrounded them and hacked them up. According to Cespenar, my sword had been designed to kill illithid, and I believe they actually recognized it. Not that I could identify any emotion on their alien visages, but when a huge terrifying monster runs away from you, waving its tentacles frantically, well, that's pretty neat.

With the illithids down, we turned to face the other combatants. Githyanki and I had not exactly seen eye to eye ever since a certain incident with a Silver Sword, but presumably these particular githyanki did not know that I still possessed one of their sacred relics. It was stashed somewhere in the litter of weapons and armor that cluttered my room in the pocket plane.

"The enemy of our enemy is _not_ our friend," their captain said, and I noticed his eyes on my blade. "We are, however, accepting thralls at this time."

"Great," I said. "_We_ are accepting truces at this time." We eyed each other. They had the advantage of numbers. They probably had reinforcements within easy call. I wasn't that worried. We were fresh, and we had killed githyanki before. We could always retreat back through the portal. Unless they just happened to be in Helms's service, they couldn't follow. These guys just didn't look that tough and I let that opinion show clearly on my face.

"The enemy of our enemy is not our _friend_," he repeated. "But that does not make you our enemy. Perhaps we could parley for a moment, before you depart our territory, never to return."

"I'll be brief," I said. "We are just passing through and have no interest in territory of any kind. We are merely looking for the portal to the lower level."

The githyanki captain stared at me and then pointed across the great hall. On the far side, there was another portal. It shimmered invitingly. Could it really be so simple?

"It does not work," he said.

"It will for us," I replied, striving for that positive attitude that Lathander loves. "Anomen, check it out," I murmured.

We all moved towards the far portal. I tried to walk with casual confidence, moving at a good pace while not taking my eyes off the githyanki. That was more difficult than it sounds. I did, however, manage to not trip over my own boots.

"The portal is open," Anomen said in a low voice. He did not sound nearly as surprised as I felt.

"Farewell, githyanki," I said cheerfully. "Happy hunting and all that." And then we passed through to the fifth level.

We found ourselves in another cavernous hall but this place was dark, dismal, and silent. Braziers set along the far walls cast their flickering light into the gloom. Our footsteps echoed strangely here and I stopped, not wanting the sounds of my own movement to add to the eeriness of this place. The others halted as well. There was a large symbol, inlaid in gold on the floor under our feet. It was the symbol of Helm, his gauntlet set with the Ever-Seeing Eye. I was standing right on the eye. I shuffled off it.

"We watch," a voice whispered. My head came up to scan the dark room.

"We guard," said another. A chill ran through me.

"We protect," said a third. They were all around us, a ring of spectral spirits. There must have been two dozen of the ghosts.

"The undead guardians," Anomen whispered. "These are the Knights of the Vigil that Helm sacrificed."

"We are the _true_ Knights of the Vigil," one of the ghosts said. "Our vigil has never ended. Have you come to perform your sacred duty at last?"

"We are here to strengthen the seals that hold the Imprisoned One," Anomen said. The ghost drifted closer to him. My hands were clammy inside my gauntlets from a cold sweat of fear. The presence of the undead always did that to me.

"You follow Helm but you are not of our order, priest," the ghost said. There seemed to be disappointment in his tone. I did not expect to hear emotion from a ghost.

"I am here at the behest of your order," Anomen said. "Helm sent me to aid them."

"Why did they not come themselves? Why do they not accompany you? Have they abandoned us? Have they abandoned their duty?"

"They are unable to perform their duty," Anomen finally said. "They tried but they are not strong enough."

"Not strong enough," said the ghost. "Yes. This is true. They are not strong enough. They love their own lives too much to risk them here. We whom you see here gave our lives and our afterlives to hold this evil in check."

Another ghost drifted closer to Anomen and I could swear that there was sorrow on its face.

"There was a time when they, too, were dedicated to our cause," it said. "But as time passed, their resolve trickled away. Their fear makes them weak. Now they will not stir from their comfortable existence to even verify that the seals still hold. They have abandoned their vigil."

"I do not—"

"No. Make no excuses for them. We watch and we know. You have acted righteously, priest of Helm. We shall open the portal for you. You shall go below and you shall perform the duty my brothers abandoned. You must go alone. Helm shall shield you from the presence of the Imprisoned One, a sight that would surely drive your companions to irreparable madness. Go now, priest, and return when the task is complete."

I moved in wordless protest and Sarevok caught me by the arm. Anomen met my eyes.

"Stay here, my lady," he said. "I go to do Helm's bidding." He put his weapon on his belt and drew a small scroll case from his pouch. One of the ghosts led him to a portal set in a large arch. He disappeared through it.

And then we waited.

"You know," Imoen said. "He took the wardstone with him."

"He needed it to go to the lowest level," I said.

"Yeah. But now we can't get out."

"I'm not leaving here without Anomen."

"I know. Just saying it would be nice if we had a spare."

Moments passed as hours. The ghosts stood around us, motionless and quiet. Their very calmness caused me to fidget. Finally, with a sigh like a gentle wind, the portal opened again and a light shone through it. Anomen stood there for a moment, his figure outlined by the shimmer of the portal and then he took several hesitant steps towards us. I tried to go to him and again, Sarevok held me back. Anomen turned his face towards me and then I could see the source of the light. His eyes were featureless white orbs and they shone like lamps in the gloom of the hall.

"It is done," he said in a hoarse whisper. "The task is done."

"Bright Morninglord," I whispered. "What have they done to you?" I turned on the nearest spirit and my fear sounded like anger. "What have you done to him?"

Anomen held his hand out to me. "Hush, Keeta," he said. "All is well." His hand shook with a fine tremor. In fact, I could see that his whole body trembled.

"Helm has loaned him His sight," the spirit answered me. "It is a great gift. No mortal can face Demogorgon, Prince of Demons, but Helm protected His priest. The effect will pass."

I pulled loose from Sarevok's grip and ran to Anomen. He put his arms around me and still he trembled. He pressed his face against my shoulder.

"Can you see?" I asked.

"Too much." I braced to support his weight as he sagged against me. "I have seen evil," he whispered in my ear. And then he collapsed.


	31. Blood Will Tell

**Ch. 31…Blood Will Tell**

"I can walk," Anomen mumbled. The Helmite ghosts had told us that the portal we came in through would now take us outside the keep and I think we were all quite anxious to leave this dark and haunted chamber. Anomen's words were a little optimistic. He could almost walk. Keldorn and I stood on either side of him and he put his arms around our shoulders. We managed to half drag him through the portal.

As we walked, I noticed that Anomen dropped his gaze to his feet, and he was careful not to look around. I wondered what it was that his strange eyes saw.

Then we were out in the bright sunshine on top of Watcher's Keep. We were not alone. We were very much not alone. We were, in fact, surrounded. All of the Knights of the Vigil that I had met in the compound were gathered around. They were armed. And there were other armored knights as well. Two of these I recognized—Guardian Telwyn from Helm's temple in Athkatla and Sir Ryan Trawl, from the Order of the Radiant Heart. Others looked familiar. The reinforcements that Anomen had requested over a ten-day ago had finally arrived.

They still bore the dust of travel on their cloaks and armor. They looked tired. In fact, they looked grim. I wondered if they had been planning an assault on the keep instead of waiting for us to come out. If so, our arrival was uncannily timely. Only Brother Pol came forward to greet us and his face mainly held concern.

"Has Sir Anomen been wounded?" he asked anxiously.

"Not exactly," I said.

"What exactly?" asked Sir Ryan. Anomen raised his head at the sound of the familiar voice. Sir Ryan was his commanding officer. Anomen smiled in genuine pleasure to see him and Sir Ryan's expression lightened for a moment, then froze when he noticed Anomen's eyes. Brother Pol also noticed and he recoiled in something that could have been fear or awe.

"I have read the ritual scroll," Anomen said. "The seals to the prison have been restored to full strength."

Both Brother Odren and Brother Pol sagged in relief.

"I fear I must apologize, Sir Ryan," Anomen said. "You have come all this way for nothing, thanks to Helm and the assistance of my companions here."

"It is good news indeed that the Imprisoned One is secure," Sir Ryan said. "It is very good news. However, it grieves me to inform you that I have another duty to perform, a duty that will be painful for us both, I fear. Keeta of Candlekeep, Child of Bhaal, I place you under arrest."

I stiffened and Anomen tightened his grip upon my shoulder.

"Nay, Sir Ryan," he said. "She has committed no crime. You are under a misapprehension if you believe Keeta has any responsibility for the destruction of Saradush."

"I was there and I bear witness to her innocence," Keldorn said. "In fact, she is personally responsible for the death of Yaga-Shura, the one who led the assault on that city."

"I do not doubt your word," Sir Ryan said. "I am acquainted with Keeta and know something of her character. But I am under orders from the crown of Tethyr. Keeta must be brought to trial. I am certain that she will be proven innocent but it must be proven in court. I cannot take even your word alone, Sir Keldorn."

"Don't forget the _other_ criminal," Brother Odren said. I knew he didn't like me but where did this bitterness come from? "Sarevok Anchev stands by her side. He is wanted for many crimes in Baldur's Gate, including trying to incite a war against Amn and I don't think anyone will even pretend that _he_ is innocent of them. It would not shock me to learn that the two of them have been in league together all along. They are both Bhaalspawn and blood will tell."

Sir Ryan turned on him with cold eyes but his voice was perfectly polite.

"Please do not instruct me in my orders, Brother Odren. If you wish to inform the authorities of Baldur's Gate of this man's whereabouts, you are, of course, free to do so. I would hope that the undertaking of so long a trip would not interfere with the execution of your own duties, which are no doubt considerable. You are the head of this order, are you not?"

My mind was working furiously. For many reasons, I had no desire to get into a fight with the knights of the Order of the Radiant Heart. However I had even less desire to stand trial in Tethyr, particularly when I had no assurance that the trial would be fair in any way. How many ten-days would that farce drag out? Hadn't we wasted enough time already? The knights believed they had us trapped up here and I was reluctant to activate the pocket plane magic in the plain sight of so many witnesses. Imoen was standing somewhere behind me and I used my free hand behind my back to give her an urgent signal that we needed her services. At this point invisibility would work nicely.

I think she must have understood my signal for a moment later, Guardian Telwyn stepped past me.

"Excuse me, young lady, but I must insist that you cease your spell casting this moment, or I will be forced to Silence you." I sighed. There went another good idea down the privy hole.

"I cannot come with you, Sir Ryan," I said. "The task before me must take precedence."

"What task is that?"

"I must stop the other Bhaalspawn from gathering their armies and marching across the land," I said.

Brother Odren let out a bark of laughter. "Call it what it is," he said. "You and your siblings are involved in a war of succession. Sir Ryan Trawl, these Bhaalspawn must be stopped. I believe that your orders allow you, even urge you to execute Bhaalspawn on sight, without this mockery of a trial. She has served her purpose here. Let this end."

Anomen, suddenly steady on his feet, shook loose from Keldorn and me and strode towards Brother Odren. His face was sternly set. Brother Odren flinched away from the look in his strange god-touched eyes.

"Yes, let this end," he said. "Keeta has done more to serve Helm in her time here in Watcher's Keep than you have in your entire existence. You serve with your lips but not your heart. Helm has spoken to her and blessed her with His presence. Can you say the same of yourself?" Anomen took a step closer and I saw that Brother Odren's face was very pale.

"When I look upon you, I see a man who has failed his vows, who has failed in his duty, and who now seeks to divert attention from his own shortcomings. Let me assure you, Brother Odren, that what I tell you now is what Helm Himself sees. I hope and pray that you find the courage to look into your own heart and address your failures. If you do not, I tell you true that when you come before Helm for His judgment, He will not be so merciful!"

Anomen stepped back and addressed all of the knights, and the authority in his voice was unmistakable. It was almost as if we were faced by an avatar of his stern and watchful god.

"Resume your duties, Knights of the Vigil. You have let down your guard and allowed evil to grow here. Your inattention almost allowed the release of the Imprisoned One. It is clear that you have little understanding of the importance of your role." He gave each of them a hard look from his frightening eyes. "Shall I describe to you what I have seen in the heart of this prison? Your leader concerns himself with Bhaalspawn while you yourselves have almost released a much greater destructive force on the land through your own lack of vigilance." They quailed from his stare. He then turned to Guardian Telwyn. "Guardian, I charge you to find amongst the faithful in Amn six knights, vigilant and true, to join to the forces already here monitoring the seals."

"On whose authority—" he began.

"I speak for Helm," Anomen snapped.

"I—see that you do. Yes, Sir Anomen, I shall do what you request."

"And you, sir," he said, turning to Sir Ryan Trawl. "I fear, Sir Ryan, that I must override your orders."

Sir Ryan made no reply at first, but just studied Anomen thoughtfully. Then he motioned for us to step away from the group, so he could speak to us more privately.

"Are you speaking with Helm's authority on this matter as well?" he asked. "Or is this the desire of your heart alone?" Sir Ryan, like many in Athkatla, was certainly aware that we were long time companions, and possibly aware that Anomen and I had been lovers.

"That is unclear," Anomen admitted. At Sir Ryan's expression, he added quickly, "There is a limit to how much involvement Helm can take in the Bhaalspawn conflict. Surely you understand this? Your orders are shortsighted. You must not interfere with Keeta's quest."

Sir Ryan continued to look at Anomen steadily. He gave a small shake of the head. He was not persuaded.

"Since when does the Order of the Radiant Heart take orders from the crown of Tethyr?" Anomen asked angrily. "You know as well as I do the true motivation behind this arrest. We should not be dragged into political issues! This matter is far too important."

Ironic words indeed, considering it was not so very long ago that Anomen vehemently criticized the Order for too little involvement in affairs of state. Sir Ryan leaned toward him and spoke in a low voice.

"If the Bhaalspawn are not stopped in Tethyr, they will be in Amn next, Anomen. There is already rioting in the streets of Athkatla. The Council of Six is insistent that action be taken against the Bhaalspawn threat. They have instructed me to cooperate with Tethyr."

"Arresting Keeta will add to the chaos, not halt it."

"I do not disagree," Sir Ryan said. "But my orders are clear. What do you propose?" That was an invitation if ever I heard one but Anomen just stood there, looking blank.

"For the time being, you could place Keeta in my custody," Keldorn suggested quietly. "Would that satisfy your interpretation of your orders?"

"My _interpretation_ of my orders?" Sir Ryan raised his brows. "Why, my dear Sir Keldorn, surely you are not suggesting that I attempt to circumvent my written orders in any way? Does that not smack of hypocrisy?" The two men stared at each other and then they both chuckled. This had the sound of an inside joke. They were, after all, very old friends.

"Very well," Sir Ryan said briskly and loudly enough for all to hear. "Helm's wishes are clear in this matter. Keeta of Candlekeep shall be placed in the custody of Sir Keldorn Firecam, paladin of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. Since Tethyr has set no trial date, I request you, Sir Keldorn, to bring Keeta of Candlekeep to the headquarters of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart at your nearest convenience, for further instructions. As for you, Sir Anomen Delryn, knight of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, your orders are to assist Sir Keldorn as needed in the execution of his duty. May the gods be with you both." He then turned to his knights. "We will rest here today and set off for Athkatla in the morning."

It seemed like a good idea for the rest of us to camp near the compound. I knew Keldorn and Anomen wanted to spend some time catching up with the news from their comrades in the Order and I suspected it might make the knights a bit uncomfortable if the rest of us suddenly disappeared.

Jaheira and I set up our camp near the brook while the others were busy socializing.

"So it seems that Anomen has orders to remain with our group," she said.

"That took me by surprise too. I hope he—" I hadn't had time to think about what that might mean for us all but the implications itched at the back of my mind. Anomen had seen me and Sarevok together. Imoen had said everyone knew about Sarevok and me. Was that true? Jaheira watched me from the side of her eye. "I hope he doesn't mind," I said on a weak breath.

"Why would he mind?" she asked blandly. The words hung between us like an invitation for a confession. After a moment that seemed longer than it was, she added, "His task for Helm is complete. Do you think he lacks commitment to our cause?"

"I can't speak for him."

"No?" Again the silence grew. I wasn't aware I twisted his ring on my finger until I caught her eyes upon it. "I, for one, am glad to see him returned to us."

"I'm glad too, Jaheira."

"Without him, our group lacked balance. Do you agree?"

"I never knew you regarded him so highly." Which wasn't quite fair. She had been critical when Anomen first joined us in Athkatla but that was long ago.

"I do not speak every thought in my head," she said.

"You don't?" I tried to tease but she did not smile back.

"Khalid said my desire for balance in the lives of others made me meddle. It does not feel right to stand by and watch my friends make messes of their lives. I thought it better to be seen as interfering or perhaps even shrewish. But perhaps he was right. You cannot force guidance on someone, no matter how badly they are in need of it."

Again, the expectant look as she waited for me to speak. I didn't know what to say so I stood and said nothing. "Do you require my company?" she asked. Was that disappointment in her voice or was that my own guilt? "Tomorrow I suppose we will be back in the desert. I would enjoy this forest while I can."

"Go gather flowers and talk to the squirrels, or whatever it is you do," I said. "Who knows when you will get another opportunity? Tomorrow we travel."

Just out of sight of her small camp, I sat in the ferns under a river birch and leaned back against its trunk. Was I making a mess of my life? Probably. Maybe I would be killed before I had to sort it out. Despite my personal turmoil, I had to stop Sendai and Abazigal. No matter what else they were planning, they had to destroy me and Imoen before they could proceed. In a way, Brother Odren had been correct—this was a war of succession before all else. And although the odds against us seemed almost ludicrously great, it was becoming increasingly clear that there were other forces in play. Perhaps the gods could not directly involve themselves in our conflict, but their indirect involvement was plain to feel. The odds against us could not be calculated by numbers because, as usual, my coin had fallen on its edge.

We must destroy Sendai and Abazigal. So much was clear. But then what? As long as Imoen and I both lived, was that enough to prevent Bhaal from returning? As long as there were at least two of us left, would that be enough to stop him? Or would Imoen and I be driven by the madness in our blood to try to kill each other next? Perhaps our dispute earlier foreshadowed the conflict to come.

I threw away the frond I'd been absently shredding when I saw Sarevok stride towards me. Like me, he had taken off his armor and set aside his sword. He did have a short sword buckled at his hip, just as I wore a knife. Even in a camp full of knights, we were both a little too paranoid to walk about unarmed.

He stood over me with a slight frown.

"I thought Jaheira was with you."

"The forest called her name."

"I don't like you to be unguarded."

"Sometimes I need to be alone, Sarevok." Not taking that gentle hint, he sat down in the ferns beside me. He continued to frown.

"Delryn will rejoin us, it seems."

"So it seems." Like with Jaheira, I could feel him wait for me to say something. "Don't worry," I said. "I don't think Anomen is going to expect things to be as they were. As far as I can tell, Helm still does not consider me a suitable consort for his priest."

"I do not care what Anomen wants, nor do I care about Helm's wishes."

"Or mine?" I peeped up at him through my lashes, not sure he was in the mood to be teased.

"Yours I care about."

I shifted so that I leaned against his shoulder. "When did everything get so damned complicated?" He relaxed slightly and moved so his arm went around my shoulder.

"Were things ever simple?" The slow movement of his chest as he breathed soothed me. "What would you have done with your life, if you were merely Keeta of Candlekeep and did not have this destiny hanging over you?" I smiled a little and plucked another frond. I twirled it in my fingers. It seemed strange indeed to be playing 'what if' games with Sarevok.

"I would have hired myself out until I earned some coin," I said. "Probably as a caravan guard—I always thought that would suit me." I couldn't see his face but I could hear a smile in his voice.

"A caravan guard. You. And what would you have done with your coin, once you earned it?"

"Bought a ship," I said, waiting for his laugh. He was silent. "Hired a crew and sailed away."

"What kind of ship?" he asked. "A merchant vessel? Or did you want to become a pirate?" Now he was teasing me.

"No, nothing like that," I said. "I mean, I didn't have a plan. I just wanted to sail away. Everyone thinks I was too stupid to learn anything at Candlekeep, but I did learn a little geography. I've always liked maps. I wanted to go see all those places I heard stories about for myself. Maybe fill in some of the blank spots on the maps. That's all."

"You wanted to be an explorer."

"That's right. Haven't you longed to go to Kara-Tur? Wouldn't you love to see the western lands?" He didn't answer but his hands rubbed along my arms. "What about you? What would you have done with your life, if you'd had a choice?"

"At first, after I escaped that foul temple, all I cared about was having enough. Enough to eat, warm clothes, safety from those who preyed upon the children of the streets. Even that seemed an impossible dream, when I slept with the rest of the garbage. When Rieltar took me in, I thought I had found my haven. I soon learned different."

"Did he know you were a Bhaalspawn when he took you in?"

"That was his sole motivation for taking me as his son. He saw the power in me and wished to harness it. Living as I did, I had come to an awareness of my taint earlier than most and he could see it in me. If Imoen had trained as a warrior, as you did, I suspect she would have felt her taint much sooner."

Perhaps this was why Gorion had never encouraged my training with the guards. Like Rieltar, he had known what I was from the beginning. I slid my arm around Sarevok's waist.

"After I learned of my heritage, all my other dreams fell away. I committed everything to my ambition. I made no contingencies for failure. I knew failure was death. I have always known that."

"Now you have another chance."

"I have a chance to fail again and perhaps even more spectacularly this time."

"Always an optimist," I said. "That is one of the things I love about you."


	32. Search for Sendai

**Ch. 32…Search for Sendai**

The next day, once Sir Ryan Trawl and his men departed for Athkatla, we returned to the pocket plane. Without discussion (thank the gods) Anomen stowed his gear in Keldorn's room and Cespenar scrounged up a spare bed from his secret storeroom. Sendai's enclave lay north-east of Amkethran, at the border of the forest and the desert. Abazigal lay east of the village, deep in the badlands. Sarevok wanted to attack Abazigal first and so everyone else voted for Sendai. Typical. I let the portal have the final vote and it plopped us down right outside Amkethran. So that was no help.

We endured several days of discomfort as we crossed the desert. Balthazar's map was more detailed than the one Melissan had given us. We stuck to caravan trails, with Jaheira scouting ahead, but we saw no travelers. I did not know if that was normal. The terrain gradually changed, from sandy desert to rocky scrubland to low hills, lightly covered with a pine forest. The shade and moisture was welcome indeed. We skirted a small village and would have asked for news but the villagers hid from us.

I began to wonder if we'd missed our way. We should have been close to the enclave but I saw no signs of an army, and no signs of an army's passage. How could an army exist without supplies, without an encampment, without roads of any kind? How could they cook without firewood? This forest had only been lightly harvested of no more than a single peasant family would cut to sell to their hamlet or use to make charcoal.

"We're in the wrong place," I said. "Damn that Balthazar and his cursed map. I knew he wasn't trustworthy."

"Let's go back and question the woodcutter," Jaheira suggested.

"The fellow we passed an hour ago? The one you told us to hide from?" I hate being lost and I hate retracing my steps. My mood was going steadily downhill.

"Uh, is there some sort of fortress around here?" I asked, one hot and bothersome hour later. Now that I took the shade and pleasant odors of the forest for granted, I was increasingly irritated by the ever-present swarms of biting insects. The woodcutter was a sour looking old fellow, bent over with age, who caressed his axe when he saw us approach. He looked at me like I was a simpleton when I asked about the enclave.

"A fortress? Out here? Someone's been playing a trick on you, mistress." Just what I was thinking myself. I was ready to call it a day. I was just a short spell away from the pocket plane, where there was a nice hot bath waiting and a mug of ale with my name on it. Also I really wanted to get out of my boots.

"Have you seen anything strange or out of the ordinary lately?" Imoen asked. He hemmed and hawed about, but she was gently persistent with her questions, and eventually he admitted to having seen some elves—strange elves with blackened faces—in a clearing west of his cabin.

"Drow," Jaheira said in disgust. "No wonder we have seen no sign of the enclave. It lies under the earth."

Oh, ye gods. I'd had more than enough of cavern delving during our time in the Underdark. Were the drow planning another incursion against the surface world here, like at Suldanessellar? This was hardly a strategic location, in any sense of the word. It made no sense.

"It will be getting dark soon," I said. "We won't be able to find some hidden underground entrance in the dark. We'll need luck to find it in daylight."

"The drow will not come to the surface during the day," Jaheira said. "We have a better chance of spotting them in the evening."

"Good point, but you're the only one who can see in the dark," I said.

"You have ears, don't you?"

We found the clearing the woodcutter mentioned. There were indeed signs of some struggle that had taken place—trampled ferns, some stained with what appeared to be blood. We spread out and hid as best we could in the light cover available. We humans were to trust to our ears and our normal night vision. Keldorn and Imoen had their true sight spells, to use if they heard anything suspicious. I didn't dare trade glances with Sarevok, for he was even less happy with this plan than I was.

Seemingly endless hours passed. I settled my back against a tree and tried to remain still and watchful. It was a quiet torture, consisting of various small but nagging discomforts. My armor pinched, my boots were hot, and bugs crawled under my clothes to tickle and bite in places I couldn't reach. Every time I squirmed to get more comfortable, I made a small racket. I could practically feel the waves of disapproval radiate from Jaheira, even though I didn't know exactly where she was. I am a terrible hunter. I lack the skills and especially the patience. Point me out my prey and I'll kill it, but don't make me track it down, or worse, lay in wait for it.

I was also aware that, no matter how I suffered, it was worse for Sarevok. He was a city boy to the core, and even less patient that I was. I suspected that my own foul mood was, at least in part, originating from him. If he was pushed too far, I wasn't sure how he would react.

I tried those waiting games we play with ourselves to make time pass. I thought about how I might redesign my armor. I counted and did math problems in my head. I tried to recall all the details of a play I had seen in Athkatla, trying to hear the dialog as the actors had spoken it. Finally I decided that when the edge of the moon dropped behind a certain tree branch, I would call a halt for the evening.

The moon finally reached my mark; my patience was gone. I levered myself to my feet, so stiff in my joints that I could hardly stand.

"Okay, folks," I said. "That's enough for tonight."

And then the forest erupted with drow. We ambushers were ambushed.

Generally speaking, drow are small people. Small and agile—hard to see and hard to hit. They were at home in the dark in a way that I never would be. I had last fought drow in the Underdark. I had been shapeshifted into the semblance of a drow myself, able to speak their tongue and gifted with heightened senses somewhat similar to their own. I was a more seasoned fighter now but these drow were tough. An elite strike force, I suspected. They had several umber hulks with them and worse, a perfectly enormous beholder, possibly a hive mother. Anomen had a shield that would reflect beholders' rays but it was back at the pocket plane.

One of the drow gawked at my sword in recognition and made some comment I didn't understand. I killed him. I had suspected the sword had been forged in the Underdark, especially after the illithid in Watcher's Keep had seemed to know it. The blade had been on display in Yaga-Shura's temple like a treasured gift. It did have something of the drow style about it and seemed designed for smaller hands. On me, a tall human, the length was closer to that of a bastard sword than a great sword. It was a pretty effective length, once I got used to it, and the blade itself was very fine. Cespenar and I had spent a quiet evening reworking the guard and grip to my taste. We found a maker's mark but I couldn't read the script. Cespenar called it Psion's Blade. The sword's magical protections seemed designed to protect against the mind attacks of umber hulks and illithids, common adversaries in the places below.

I went after the hive mother, which was probably the toughest single opponent, and not coincidentally, one I had no trouble seeing. I whacked away at its stoneskin and hoped that the spell I heard Imoen casting would take its protections down. I couldn't keep track of where my companions were or what they were doing in the dark. It was a worry in the back of my mind.

Imoen didn't breach the hive mother, but she called up a large fire elemental. It attacked the drow, but better still, gave off enough light for us humans to see by. Keldorn joined me in the attack, and his holy sword Carsomyr dispelled some of the creature's protections. Between us, we brought it down. Sarevok cut down anything that dared stand against him, and Jaheira called forth another fire elemental. The surviving drow fled silently into the brush, invisible to me, but Jaheira was able to track them to a rocky area north of the ambush site. Here they disappeared, but Keldorn dispelled the illusion that hid the entrance to the caves below.

I didn't bother to ask if anyone wanted to continue on. I was not interested in another blasted vote. We had found the entrance to the enclave and that was good enough. I was tired, I was bleeding, and I had had enough for one night. I activated the portal key.

* * *

I'd dragged myself out of bed and wished for another few hours of sleep. Or days maybe. As a sop to the proprieties, or my interpretation of them, Sarevok had drifted back to his own bed sometime in the early hours. He thought I was a hypocrite and he was probably right. Hunger got me moving and I stumbled into the common room, still in my night clothes. Imoen sat by herself and nursed a mug of tea. She looked a lot more rested than I felt. She looked perky, in fact. Ugh.

Food was set up on the side table. I lifted the cover on the first dish and gagged. Bacon. The smell brought me extremely vivid memories of the day I'd carried Yaga-Shura's heart in my pack. I slammed the cover down with a clang. Despite my hunger, nothing looked appetizing. Finally I loaded up my plate with bread and dried fruit. The bread was stale. There wasn't any jam. I'd had better trail rations than this.

"Cespenar!" I hollered. He drifted in from the back room.

"Yes, master?"

"Don't we have anything decent to eat?" The imp glanced at the side table and then gave me a puzzled look.

"What would you like, master?"

"Something that is not spoiled," I said tartly. "The bacon has gone bad."

"Oh, no, surely not," he said and he flew over to the side table.

"No, don't lift the cover," I said. "If I smell it again, I'll be sick. Just take it away. Throw it into the Abyss for the demons to gnaw on."

"There's nothing wrong with the bacon," Imoen said. "I ate six pieces." They both looked at me. Six pieces of that stinking bacon. Her mouth was shiny from the grease. My stomach lurched.

"Fine, have it your way," I said. "I don't care for rancid meat, myself. Do we have any milk?"

"Cow's milk?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, of course cow's milk, what kind of milk did you think I wanted? Do we have any?"

"We don't have a cow, master." I felt my eyes roll up in exasperation. We didn't have a pig, either, but somehow we had bacon. Stinking, spoiled bacon.

"Does that mean we don't have any milk?"

"I made tea for you," Cespenar said. "Your nice pot of tea is right here, where it always is." He poured me a mug and brought it to me. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"Get it away from me," I said. "I don't want it. Fetch me some cold water, if that's all we have." Bread and water, just like prison.

"But master, your tea—"

"I said I don't want it!" I growled. With the back of my hand, I shoved the mug off the table. It smashed to the floor in a shower of hot tea and clay shards. Cespenar flew out of the way but my bare feet were splashed. I bit back a curse. The imp stared at me with wide eyes as if he thought I would hit him next.

"I'm sorry, master."

"Don't apologize," I said angrily. "It was my fault. Just get it cleaned up." I looked up to find Anomen was now at the head of the table with his grave eyes upon me. Last night he had avoided me as much as was possible in this prison of ours and now he caught me in a tantrum like a two year old. Imoen stared at me too.

"Be careful, Anomen," she said. "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the Abyss."

Anomen picked up a clean plate and walked to the side table.

"Don't lift that cover," I warned but it was too late. The aroma of spoiled greasy bacon hit me like a hammer. I ran to the back room and threw up into the basin Cespenar gave me.


	33. Poisoned

**Ch. 33…Poisoned**

The gleam of sunlight from the entrance behind us did not penetrate far into the cavern. I asked Imoen to cast a spell of light upon us. Stealth would not serve us here. Light would. Imoen had disarmed the alarm trap at the cave entrance but that didn't mean we hadn't already been spotted by unseen sentries. Drow wouldn't attack us on the surface during the day. They would be waiting inside in the dark somewhere.

We stepped into a small cavern. We had to destroy a grove of myconids that turned hostile as we passed. It was my guess that they had been planted there as an additional entry alarm. A long dark narrow passageway stretched before us. It had the uneven appearance of some natural fissure. Were I Sendai, I would set my guards at the end of this passage, where we would have to face them one or two at a time. A handful of archers could hold off an army of invaders and we were no army.

Despite my very logical argument that my sword protected me best from the creatures of the Underdark that we were likely to be facing, Sarevok insisted on leading.

"In that case, you'd better take this," I said. I pulled off my gauntlet and started twisting off the Ring of Gaxx. It seemed reluctant to leave my finger.

"No." He was angry for some reason. He picked up my gauntlet from the ground where I had dropped it and slapped it into my hand.

"But—"

"Keep that on your hand, you fool," he said. Behind his back, Imoen gave me a rather amused look of exaggerated surprise. I ignored her.

Sarevok thought the passageway too narrow to use his great sword effectively, so he had sheathed it and wielded his short sword. We gave him a bit of head start so we weren't all bunched up on top of each other, and then Keldorn followed. I was third. I kept Psion's Blade in my hand and hoped I didn't find myself having to use it in the long crack we crawled through. Sarevok was right. It was too narrow to fight in.

The passage was much longer than I expected. There were places it was so tight that I had to turn sideways and still I scraped my armor on both sides. Small slender drow could probably run through two abreast. Keldorn, less agile with his thicker heavier armor, had more trouble getting through. I wondered how Sarevok had squeezed past so quickly. He was nowhere in sight.

My nerves were stretched to the fraying point. The darkness pressed upon me like smothering black velvet. For a second, I felt my breath catch. Then my heart started racing. Something was wrong.

"Hurry!" I cried. Something was wrong, something was wrong. I caught up with Keldorn but there was no room to pass him. "Hurry, hurry," I urged.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I don't—" But I did know what was wrong. "Sarevok needs me." I had to restrain myself from shoving.

We burst out of the fissure at last into a large cavern, with me treading on Keldorn's heels. Sarevok lay on the ground, savaged by two umber hulks. He made no move to protect himself. He must have fallen under the sway of their mental attacks. There were other umber hulks further back in the cavern but I ran towards the two on top of Sarevok. They lifted their heads to stare at me with their four horrific eyes but my sword's enchantments made me immune to their psionics. I realized they were using their claws to shear through the bindings that held his armor in place so they could reach his vital parts. I usually think of umber hulks as mere beasts but they are in fact intelligent creatures. When they rose to face me, their claws were already red with his blood.

I swelled with fury. This was not the hot burning fury that called the Slayer, but an icy rage, with fear at its heart. Sarevok lay very still. His eyes were open but he did not move or even blink. I had killed so many of these creatures during the last year that I did not have to think about the location of the weak spots in their carapace. My sword sought them out on its own. In mere moments I killed them both, slinging their foul smelling juice off my blade in a wide arc.

Anomen emerged from the passage and ran forward to help Keldorn, who faced four more of the creatures. I grabbed his arm and pushed him towards Sarevok. I raced to Keldorn's side. One of the umber hulks attacking him was exceptionally large, an elder of their race. The three smaller ones leapt at him at once and used their bulk to bear Keldorn to the ground. One raised its claw to swipe at his face but I lopped it off before it could finish its swing. It didn't make a sound. They chitter to themselves to communicate, but I've never heard one cry out in pain. Maybe they didn't feel pain like we did.

Jaheira finished shouting out her spell and I heard a welcome roar of flames behind my back. With any luck, she had just called up a really big fire elemental. I couldn't stop to look.

"Look up!" she shouted urgently. The umber hulk I had maimed was still crouched low to the ground. It slammed into my knees and knocked me backwards. I managed to keep my balance by some miracle but I couldn't get my blade over in time to block the blow of its remaining claw. It slammed against my thigh. My armor protected me but I staggered back another couple of steps, trying to keep from falling. I didn't want those cursed bugs on top of me. And Jaheira wanted me to look up?

"Kind of _busy_ here," I gritted through my teeth. Something plopped on my shoulder. _Now what?_ I caught more movement around me out of the corner of my eyes. As the umber hulk rose from its crouch, I swung my blade hard into its face, taking out at least one of its eyes. I cast a quick glance upward.

The ceiling crawled. Something up there fell towards me. I jumped back, then stomped it when it hit the ground. It was a spider as large as a house cat. There must have been hundreds of them up there, in all different sizes from kitten to wolf. I'm not particularly phobic about spiders (I save my irrational fears for the undead) but that was a deeply creepy sight.

What was the deal with drow and spiders anyway?

"Come on, Keldorn, get up now!" I shouted. "Imoen, shoot me a fireball! Now, now, now!"

Keldorn didn't move. Keldorn had dropped his sword. That scared me. When Sarevok dropped his weapon, I assumed he was going to kill with his bare hands. When Keldorn dropped Carsomyr, it meant he was out of the battle. I was afraid that the big umber hulk had caught him in its gaze, like Sarevok had been caught.

"I can't, I'll hit you," Imoen wailed.

"Try not to." I braced myself for a blast that didn't come. Instead she summoned up one of those huge skeleton warriors that I loathed. It lumbered into the fray, kicking spiders out of its way. They rained down like fat hairy fruit. The skeleton grabbed one of the umber hulks that still crouched over Keldorn and flung it aside. The umber hulk hit the cavern wall with a crunching sound.

Maybe half a dozen spiders swarmed up my legs. Even as I took another swing at the maimed umber hulk, I could feel the spiders seeking gaps in my armor. Some of them were small enough to do so and they bit me at least twice. One of them crawled right up into my face and spat poison in my eyes.

"Gah!" I completed my swing with a one handed grip and used the other hand to fling the spider away. I was immune to the poison but it still burned and itched like crazy. In my distraction I totally missed my stroke. My enemy did not. The creature delivered a ringing blow against my helmet that sent me staggering back. My foot slipped in spider innards and I fell. I rolled back to my feet but it was not a smooth move because I pulled one of the big muscles in my thigh. A minor injury but it slowed me down.

Anomen was suddenly at my side. He slammed the umber hulk with his shield and then buried his hammer into its skull. The bug dropped like a stone.

"Is Sarevok okay?" I asked. He wasn't okay. I could feel it. I looked back. A towering wall of flame protected Imoen, Jaheira and Sarevok from the horde of spiders. I turned back barely in time to evade a slash that was meant to tear my throat out. The edge of one claw nicked my chin.

"Fight, Keeta," Anomen shouted and he was right. I couldn't let myself get distracted again.

"Look out," I warned as spiders swarmed Anomen this time.

"I'm protected from poison," he said. With the aid of the skeleton warrior, we managed to kill the remaining umber hulks. We kicked, slashed, and smashed our way through the spiders until the survivors fled into the webs above.

About this time, Keldorn groaned. His hands flexed and then he felt around for his sword. Anomen made me stay back until he was sure that the effects of the mental attack had passed. People had been known to kill their own companions during the strange dreams these attacks could cause. While Anomen finished healing him, I ran back to Sarevok.

"I've neutralized the poison but he still doesn't stir," Jaheira said in a worried voice.

"Poison?"

"From the spiders. One of the strongest poisons I've ever seen," she said. "And he seems to be having an idiosyncratic reaction to it."

"Will he be okay?"

"Let's get him back to the pocket plane for rest," she said. That wasn't exactly the answer I was looking for.

It was not difficult to get Sarevok out of his armor. The umber hulks had already done most of the work. Cespenar was going to have a fit when he saw how much damage had been done. Anomen, Jaheira and I between us managed to carry Sarevok to my room. No one seemed to question that that was where he needed to go. Carrying a very tall, heavy unconscious person is no easy task. We stripped off his bloody clothes before they could foul the bed. There was no point in trying to horse his limp form into sleeping clothes, so we put him to bed naked. Once he was settled, Jaheira went to check on Keldorn.

Sarevok was always warm but now he was hot as a kiln.

"He has a fever," Anomen agreed. "I will stay with you until he regains consciousness." The look he gave Sarevok frightened me. Anomen was a powerful healer. Anomen was worried and that made me _very_ worried.

"Do you think he will get worse?"

"I don't understand why he is still unconscious," he admitted. "It puzzles me. The healing we have already done should have helped him more. I don't know what effect this poison will have on him. He may become confused or delirious. He may go into convulsions. I will stay with you, Keeta, until he recovers."

I just nodded. It was unnatural to see Sarevok lie so still. I was more frightened than I liked to admit.

Anomen seemed uncomfortable. He hadn't been in my room since he had moved out. He looked about as if it belonged to a stranger. I supposed it had changed a little since he had lived with me. There were certainly more books lying around but Sarevok kept most of his books in his old room, which was now more of a library than a bedroom. I think he didn't trust me not to tear up one of his precious tomes for privy paper or maybe he was just afraid they would get lost amongst all the clutter.

Something caught Anomen's attention and I followed his gaze.

"What is that?" he asked. I smiled.

"This is the hammer I took from Yaga-Shura," I said. I would never have suspected the fire giants capable of such elegant work. In fact, Cespenar thought it was originally of dwarven manufacture and had merely been modified by Yaga-Shura's smiths for his use. You didn't even have to wield it to feel the powerful enchantments worked through it, although it certainly was a treat to hold. It had been created to destroy the undead. The hammer actually gleamed with magic. "I've been meaning to show it to you. Cespenar and I cut the grip down to fit my hand but it's still too heavy for my taste. Would you like to try it?"

I knew he would. He hefted the hammer and I backed away so he could get in a few experimental swings.

"Try it out on the practice dummies sometime," I suggested. "You'll be amazed." It had been quite a while, it seemed, since I'd seen that boyish smile of his and I had missed it. We were always so serious now that even his smiles seemed sad.

"I'd like that," he said.

"Would you like to keep it?" I asked. "It really is too heavy for me. I'd love to see what you can do with it."

His eyes went soft for a moment and he gave me a rueful little shake of the head.

"I'd rather have you work with it longer and see if you can become accustomed to the weight," he said. "I can help you with some drills." He shifted his grip slightly. "The balance is off a bit but we can fix that sometime." He set the hammer back down against the wall. "It would be a fine weapon for you, Keeta. You could use it with a shield. I've often wished to see you do more shield work." He cocked his head at my change in expression.

"I can't believe I forgot to show you Yaga-Shura's shield," I said excitedly. It would have caught his eye first thing if it hadn't been leaning against my dresser, face in. I had never actually seen Yaga-Shura use this shield in combat. A heavy shield for a human, it would have been no more than a tiny punching shield to the giant.

Anomen's eyes widened and he ran his hands over the fine metalwork, caressing the heart emblazoned in the center. It was indeed beautiful but that wasn't what put the awe on his face.

"This is the Shield of the Order," he breathed. "This is the very shield that Sir Peragath the Valiant took into battle against the demon hordes. I have heard it described many times. It has been lost for years. Where did you say you found it?"

"I took it from Yaga-Shura," I said. "I have no idea who he took it from. We need to rework the strapping before you can use it, of course. I figured you would like to do that yourself. You can see how it was meant to be rigged before he spoiled it." I shoved the shield into his arms.

"The straps," he murmured. "Yes, indeed I see—no. No, Keeta, I cannot possibly accept this. It is a treasure, truly."

"It belongs to a knight of the Order, truly," I said fondly. "No, I insist, you must take it." I grinned to see him momentarily speechless.

"Perhaps Sir Ryan Trawl—" he said at last.

"No," I said. "It is for you, Anomen. Think of it as a reward for Watcher's Keep." He leaned over and kissed my cheek. He might have said something more but Sarevok stirred on the bed. I put my hand on his forehead and he was burning up.

"What do I do?" I asked, my voice gone high and scared. Anomen took my pitcher and poured some water into the wash bowl I kept on the dresser. He got out one of the small cloths from the top drawer. He knew where I kept everything, of course.

"Sponge him down," he suggested. "I think the poison is working its way out of his system. All we can do is to keep him comfortable until it passes." Sarevok made several restless movements while I bathed him but he did not try to speak or open his eyes. I spoke soothingly to him but I could not tell that it made any difference. Finally he did seem cooler however.

"I hate this," I told Anomen. "I feel helpless." He nodded, then picked up the wine decanter and raised his brows at me.

"Give me half a glass," I said. "We might be up awhile." When he saw me water my wine, he did the same. I don't think either one of us wanted a drink. It was just something to do while we waited.

Hours passed. His fever mounted again and I gave him another sponge bath. He became increasingly restless but at least he never had convulsions, as Anomen had feared.

"Listen," I said. I felt stupid with fatigue. "You need some rest, Anomen and so do I. Why don't you go to bed and I'll come get you if anything happens." He stubbornly shook his head. I knew he would do that.

"A change could come quickly," he warned.

"Lie down on the couch then," I said. "Take a nap at least." I threw a spare blanket at him. "I'll lie down on the bed with Sarevok and if he stirs, that will wake me up." Anomen reluctantly agreed. I guess it didn't seem vigilant enough to him but really, we needed the sleep.

Gods, he was so hot. His skin baked with a dry heat. Sarevok was too hot to snuggle up with, not that I would, with Anomen across the room, only half asleep if that. I still wore the light camisole and loose pants that I wore under my armor padding. They were comfortable enough to sleep in and for once I wasn't decorated with any massive bloodstains. Sarevok's breathing seemed faster and lighter than usual. Normally his breathing was so calm and relaxing. Now it added to my distress.

I got up once in the night to sponge him down again. I thought I saw Anomen's eyes gleam at me in the low light but he didn't speak and I may have imagined it. I didn't feel a change in Sarevok's state for quite a long time. At last he stirred and there seemed more purpose to his movement than before. I put my hand on his forehead. He did not seem so hot.

"Sarevok?" He didn't answer but his hand flopped onto my shoulder. He rolled a little so he was facing me. After a bit, his eyes opened to slits. His expression was vague, lacking his usual alert intelligence. Anomen had warned me that he might be disoriented when he awoke.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked. "You've been poisoned, Sarevok."

He mumbled something and his hand slid to my waist.

"Are you awake?"

"Mmmph." At first I thought it was accidental when his hand moved lower but then he pressed me to his hip. Sarevok often woke up amorous and apparently, poison or no, he had again. Eeek. Bad timing. I moved his hand and wiggled to give some space between us.

"Do you feel okay?" I asked.

"Not as good as you do," he murmured, his fingers pressing into my waist. His hand began wandering again and more insistently, too. "Head hurts." He nuzzled against my chest. "Know how to make it better. You."

"Cut it out," I whispered. "We're not alone. Anomen is here on the couch." My words didn't seem to be getting through to him. His hand fumbled with the tie to my pants.

"Anomen's always here." He slurred his speech slightly, like he was drunk or dreaming. "See you—looking at him." He managed to loosen the tie. His hand tried to go exploring. I caught his wrist. "Think I don't notice. I do." He started nibbling and biting me through the thin silk of my shirt. It was very distracting and despite my intense embarrassment, I felt my breath quicken. "Won't have you—talking about him. Not here." I had lost control of his hand and suddenly he found what he had been seeking. I gasped. "Mine," he said.

"Stop it!" I whispered louder and I shoved him pretty hard. He rolled off me a bit and blinked several times. He rose up on his elbow and gave me a puzzled look. Anomen sat up on the couch. So he was awake as well. His face was hot. Now I was doubly embarrassed.

Sarevok saw him. His almost comical expression of shocked surprise was gone as quickly as it formed. His eyes went from Anomen to the wineglasses on the table. Sarevok flushed too but I knew he wasn't embarrassed. He was furious at being caught off guard.

"Did you two have a cozy evening together?" he asked in the slow drawling tone he sometimes used to buy himself a little extra time to think. "I hope you found some way to amuse yourselves while I was—unavailable."

Anomen didn't say anything and neither did I. Sarevok gave Anomen a provocative look. He slid his hand under my shirt to caress me, watching Anomen all the while. He pinned me down when I tried to move away. Anomen stood. His face was very grim.

"You have been ill, Anchev. You forget yourself," he said stiffly. He moved towards the door.

"Leaving so soon, Delryn?" Sarevok mocked. "We were just getting started. She is a lusty wench, our Keeta. Perhaps she was a bit inexperienced when she first came to me but I have found her an apt pupil and really, quite eager to please."

I flung myself out of the bed. I grabbed my waistband before my pants could fall down around my hips and yanked the tie tight. Now I was furious too.

"Anomen came here to help you last night," I said. "And you dare to shame us like this?"

"I don't think shame is your priest's predominant feeling right now," he said with a knowing look. "Is it, Anomen?" I struck Sarevok such a blow that he fell back against the mattress. He stared up at me and laughed. The door closed quietly.

"What in the Nine Hells is the matter with you?" I shouted. He sat up and felt his jaw where I had hit him.

"I am weary of you looking at him," he said. "I am weary of you talking to him. I am weary of seeing the two of you together every time I turn my head."

"You're mad, Sarevok."

"Am I? He looks at you like a starving cur. And I see that hunger in your eyes too. I will not have it, Keeta."

"What, do you think I'm still in love with him?" He gave me a hard look and did not answer. "Tell me, Sarevok. Do you think I'm sorry that I'm with you instead of him? Well, I'm not." I gave him a hard stare. "I wasn't until this moment, anyway. Do I care for him? Yes, I do. I'm not like you, Sarevok. I occasionally have feelings for others besides myself."

He still said nothing. I gave up in disgust and went to my dresser and started pulling out some clothes to wear.

"If I shamed you, I am sorry for it. I lost my temper. I wanted him to feel what I feel." I looked back at him. I could read nothing on his face. I moved behind the screen to get dressed. "You're limping," he said when I came out. I ran my fingers through my hair to try to knock down some of the worst of the tangles.

"I might have gotten some healing last night if we hadn't been so busy taking care of you," I said. That was cheap. It was unfair. It wasn't even accurate. Truth to tell, if my leg hadn't stiffened up in the night, I would have completely forgotten about the injury. His face still showed nothing. I might even have exaggerated my limp a bit as I took a healing potion from the kit and drank it down.

"There," I said sarcastically. "All better."

"I have apologized, Keeta."

"Words. Not very good ones, either. I would have thought that a man of your parts could express yourself more fluently. But then I am a fool, of course."

"What else do you want from me? Do you expect me to grovel? I found him here with you in our bedroom, Keeta."

"I expect you not to treat me to these jealous displays. I expect you to trust me. You know I love you. Don't you?" I wondered if choking him would do any good. "Don't you? How could you _not _know it? Why do you keep doing this? Because I _talk_ to him? That's just so—I talk to everyone, Sarevok. Will you be jealous of Keldorn next? Or Jaheira?"

"You do not talk to Keldorn like you do to Anomen." I started to give him another glare but I could tell by his look that he was really serious about this. I swallowed back a sigh and sat down on the bed beside him.

"I've known Anomen a long time. We've been through a lot together. He is more like my brother than you are. I've never thought of you as my brother. You are my lover. It's different. I don't understand why this bothers you."

"Perhaps because I realize that he is a better man than I am." His words were bitter but his voice was very flat.

"Perhaps if you didn't act like such an ass you wouldn't have to worry about that so much."

Sarevok swung his legs out of the bed and bent to pick up his clothes. When he saw the state they were in, he dropped them in disgust. He walked naked to the dresser to find something clean. I was still seriously, seriously angry with him but I couldn't help but watch him. His body was truly magnificent. He turned to look at me. Usually it amused him to find me ogling but now he just frowned. Before my mood could soften even a little, he had to open his mouth.

"You wear his ring."

"Hells take you, Sarevok. And you call _me_ a fool." I shook my head in disbelief. "I really think you should stay here and rest today," I said. "Try to recover your wandering wits. I'll see you later."

He grabbed my arm before I could go.

"You will not leave this plane without Sarevok."

"I've had enough of your hands on me for one day."

"I think not," he said, but at my icy glare he released me.


	34. Spiders and Drow

**Ch. 34…Spiders and Drow**

Breakfast was repulsive but, by avoiding the sausages, I managed to get it down without incident. Cespenar had repaired Sarevok's armor. At least three of us had gotten very little sleep but I judged us ready to go on. We had to kill our way through plenty more spiders and half a dozen umber hulks before we finally saw our first drow. We passed through a long series of connected caverns which showed no obvious signs of being worked by people. They were, however, a bit too conveniently level and clear to be entirely natural, according to Jaheira. She sat beside me when we stopped for a water break. She and I had been the main spider slayers since we were both immune to their poison. The others were well stocked with antidote potions in case any got past us.

"I sense some constraint in the group," Jaheira said quietly to me. Perhaps the grunts and monosyllabic answers to any attempt at conversation gave that away. Or maybe it was the glares.

"Sometimes I think the drow women have the right of it," I said. I did not bother to keep my voice down. "They train their men to obedience from an early age." She almost smothered a bark of laughter. Sarevok, who was nearby fiddling with his pack, glanced at me with irritation. That pleased me even more than slaying spiders.

I felt Keldorn's eyes upon me. He had been silent, like the rest of us. Now he gave me a look of slight reproof. I looked away. Yes, I was being childish but I wasn't ready to let go of my anger. Sarevok deserved it, every bit of it.

At last the cave opened up into a huge cavern and the natural gave way to artifice. Narrow bridges spanned a huge chasm, which dropped off into the unknown darkness. Drow warriors were waiting on the bridges. They sent forth their spiders and umber hulks and harassed us with their crossbows. Imoen apparently did not want to risk destroying the bridge with a fireball so she summoned one of those big disgusting skeleton warriors into their midst. The skeleton waded into the drow as we dealt with their slaves.

I made a low slam into one of the umber hulks and tried to flip it right off the bridge but it was heavier than I expected and my throw failed. It made a spirited attempt to shove me over the rail in its place but Sarevok gave it such a blow that it released me and staggered back. We both hacked at it savagely. I had had more than enough of the giant bugs and so had he.

A half dozen drow unsheathed their blades and rushed in. Just when I thought we were making pretty good progress, one of the crossbowmen broke away from the battle and I finally noticed the partially concealed door built into the side of the cave wall.

"Stop him," I yelled to the skeleton warrior, but it ignored me, of course. I'm not sure those things can hear anyway. They sure don't have any ears. The drow sentry flung open the door and his reinforcements came streaming out, all wearing that lovely adamantite armor that was so hard to penetrate. Great. It looked like we had found the barracks.

A quick glance around told me that none of us had been hurt significantly. The crossbowmen concentrated much of their fire on Imoen, and she had been forced to retreat into the protection of her spells. That kept her from using her offensive spells, but when fighting drow in such close quarters, they were probably of limited use anyway. Anomen and Jaheira concentrated on the priestesses. Keldorn was slowing down a bit but his holy sword did plenty of damage when it struck. Then there was Sarevok. Towering over the drow, he strode across the bridge like a grim and scary Deathbringer giant, and his gaze alone caused dark elves to fall away in fear. His sword caused them to fall away in pieces.

I felt we were very exposed on the narrow swaying bridge. I kept looking behind, expecting an ambush. We had passed no side passages, so there was no apparent way for the enemy to approach us from the rear, but who knew what hidden doors we might have passed unknowingly? It would be bad to be trapped here, so I pressed forward. We drove the drow back to the barracks door and then we chased them inside.

There, we slaughtered them all.

Their leader spit out some dire curse or warning as he lay dying but since none of us spoke the drow tongue, I shrugged it off. I took the key he wore on his belt. We searched the barracks. No secret doors, no maps, no lists of troop strengths, no diagrams showing the details of Sendai's plans. I hadn't really expected to find anything useful but it would have been nice. Imoen got mildly excited at the apparatus she found hidden in the back of a weapons locker and I had to break the news to her that it was just a still for making alcohol. Its counterpart could be found in almost any barracks anywhere in Faerûn.

We walked cautiously along the network of bridges but found no traps and no further sentries. We did find two locked doors and my key fit them both.

"Which one should we try?" I asked. Blank looks all around. "I'll scout this one then."

"No," Sarevok said. I raised my brows at him and pulled out an invisibility potion.

"I think I can handle it," I said icily.

"You will not go in there alone," he said and he actually grabbed my hand before I could open the vial. I felt my eyes narrow. Keldorn stepped between us and Sarevok let me go.

"Keeta, I would like a word." I gave him the slit eyed stare I had used on Sarevok and his face hardened a bit. "Now," Keldorn said. I frowned but let him pull me aside.

"I do not know what has passed between you two today to make you so angry," he said. "But any of us can have a presentiment of danger at any time. Sometimes there is substance to these warnings. Would it harm you to let him have his say in this?"

"It would harm my authority," I said angrily. "Sarevok has no 'presentiment of danger'. He is setting his will against mine and I will not allow it."

"He is trying to protect you."

"I don't want to be protected!" Keldorn gave me a thoughtful look. "Besides, I am the logical choice to go. My ring and my sword protect me."

"Keeta, I must ask you to stand down on this. Let Imoen do the scouting."

"No, not her. Jaheira, perhaps. Not Imoen."

"Why not? Truly she is the logical choice, Keeta. Can you move as silently as she can? Can you spot a trap? Can you counter an arcane threat?" I frowned. I swear that Keldorn's eyes actually twinkled at me. "My friend, are you trying to protect her? Do you think she will thank you for that?"

"It's not the same, Keldorn." He just continued to smile at me. Paladins. You really can't argue with them. I shrugged my shoulders in surrender. I walked over to Imoen and gave her the potion.

"Would you take a look around?" I asked.

"Sure thing," she said with a grin. I glared over at Sarevok to let him know that _he_ hadn't won. Keldorn had.

"It's full of spiders," Imoen said, when she returned. I had spent the time she was gone pacing back and forth until even Anomen had given me an irritated look. "Big ones, little ones, and those weird speedy ones with the super strong poison. There are webs everywhere and traps too. If you're going in there, you better watch your step. We might want to try the other door."

"Spiders," I said. "Well, that's not so bad. Jaheira and I can take care of them."

"There are a _lot_ of spiders," Imoen said.

"You said that."

"There are a _whole_ _lot_ of spiders, Keeta. There are a zillion places for them to hide too." She cut her eyes toward Sarevok. I finally got her point. Too many for us to clear out and we already knew that Sarevok was very sensitive to their poison. Hells.

I took off my gauntlet and removed the Ring of Gaxx. It didn't want to come off and I had to twist and yank. I held it out to Sarevok.

"No," he said.

"Do you have to argue about everything?"

"Put it back on your hand."

"You and Jaheira go clear out the spiders as best you can. Then come back for us."

"I can protect myself from poison with a spell," Anomen said.

"Perfect, off you all go now. Come back when you're done."

At least he didn't argue anymore, possibly because of the look Anomen gave him. Once they were gone, Keldorn settled against a wall and fell into one of his instant naps. Imoen sat cross-legged on the bridge and started reading through her spell book. I sat down by a bridge support and gently knocked my head against the railing a few times.

"Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn," I muttered. Imoen snickered.

"Don't worry, sis," she said. "I bet Anomen used to be the same way. You managed to beat it out of him."

"Yeah, well, Anomen was over-protective too but he was sweet about it. Sarevok isn't sweet."

* * *

We waited forever. I had counted my antidote potions at least twenty times. I had plenty but Keldorn spoke to me severely when I proposed going after them.

"If Sarevok needs you, you will sense it," he finally said, sounding as close to annoyed as he ever got, and this was the argument that got through to me. I would know. If something went wrong, I would know.

Time passed. There was a knock at the door and I almost jumped out of my armor. The door opened slowly.

"Come in," Imoen warbled. Anomen poked his head through and gave me a sheepish grin.

"I thought I'd better let you know it was us so you wouldn't run me through," he said. I just glared at him. It wasn't a bad idea, I supposed, but my nerves were tighter than a bowstring strung wet.

"Is everyone okay?" I snapped. His grin disappeared and he just nodded. Sarevok and Jaheira followed him through the door. They looked tired but essentially unharmed.

"Eeuw," Imoen said. "Spider guts everywhere."

Sarevok pressed the Ring of Gaxx into my hand.

"Keep it until we all pass through the cavern."

"No." A very final no. So much for my plan. I put the ring back on and it molded to my finger as if it had never left my hand. "We killed all the spiders that would fight," he said. "Some hid themselves in the webbing. So we must be careful."

We were careful, and we followed the path through the webs to the next chamber. We were immediately beset by drow and their umber hulk thralls. The bridges were a bit wider here but it made little difference to my basic tactic, which was to run in and slay everything that moved. Imoen and Jaheira called their summons, and dispelled any magical attacks. We killed and we killed and my arms got tired from lifting my sword. Untidy heaps of bodies blocked the way and red ribbons of blood ran off the bridge and dripped down into the gulf below. So many dead—my father would have been pleased.

There were two buildings that the drow had been protecting. We tried the closer one first.

"I can't open this door," Imoen said. "I think we need a wardstone or a special key."

Great. Maybe we would get to solve a puzzle to find it. We all trudged over to the other building. I put my hand on the latch and Keldorn stopped me.

"There is evil within," he said.

"Um, Keldorn, this is a drow war camp," I replied. "What _hasn't_ been evil?"

"This is an _ancient_ evil, Keeta," Anomen said. Oh, great. That could only mean one thing. Undead.

"Should we go in?" I asked.

"I think we must," Anomen said, and then he raised his hand for me to wait. He called upon Helm to bless us all and I felt a renewal of strength as the divine magic ran through me. He gave me a reassuring look and I moved aside so he could pass through first.

We faced a lich. Liches are very near the top of my hate list. All undead are abominations but for a mage—a person of intelligence and power—to choose to cast away his or her life and afterlife in the pursuit of yet more knowledge and power—well, that was worse than wrong. That was sick. I was a warrior and a human. If I lived to be thirty years old, it would be some kind of miracle. This thing had no doubt lived for hundreds of years as a drow and yet that wasn't enough, no, it had to become undead to try for an extra millennium or two. Sick, sick, sick.

The instant it saw us, it threw up its spell protections. The next instant, Imoen began to breach them. Keldorn attacked in a fury, striking blow after blow against the lich, but it was Anomen who finally destroyed it. Keldorn rushed to the body and tore open its pouch. We all were pretty startled because the paladin had never, ever shown the slightest interest in looting a corpse. He must have felt our eyes upon him.

"I sense that he carries something holy," he explained. "Even in the death beyond undeath, his touch defiles it." Then his expression changed and he held out a gem. It glowed with holy fire.

"What is it?" Anomen asked.

"The Eye of Tyr," Keldorn said. His face was calm but his voice shook with emotion. "It was a gift from Tyr himself. I do not know how such an artifact came into this creature's hands or what foul purpose he had for it." While he and Anomen stared at it in awe, I motioned Imoen to finish searching the corpse. She smiled when she found the wardstone we needed.

Jaheira and I traded looks. Keldorn was still in some kind of trance and everyone else looked extremely tired, so I called a halt and took us back to the pocket plane.

Cespenar often met us at the entrance hall. As soon as we teleported in, he drifted over to Keldorn and started trying to talk him into letting him set the Eye of Tyr into Carsomyr's hilt. I could tell Keldorn was intrigued by the idea but he had no intentions of turning over either the gem or his holy sword.

"Look," I said, tired of the argument. "Go with him, Keldorn. I'm sure you two can work something out."

Cespenar balked. "No mortals are allowed in my workshop," he whined.

"Really, Cespenar, if you can't trust a paladin, who can you trust? Do you think he is going to swipe your tools?"

"Cespenar has secrets. Many secrets."

I gave him an exasperated look. "Who cares? Work it out."

Arguing with Cespenar had delayed me and since I was no longer the first in line to get a bath, I decided to grab some food instead. Everyone else must have been too tired to eat, for I had the common room to myself. I ate quickly, bathed quickly and went to my room, where I found that Sarevok was already in my bed. I gave him an ugly look.

"You're making a big assumption," I said. He came slowly out of the bed and stood before me.

"Do you wish me to leave?"

"I am thinking about it."

"Make up your mind," he said. "I am weary."

Weary. The gods knew I was weary to my very soul. I was certainly too tired to fight anymore. I dropped my robe and walked to the bed. He did not touch me as I passed but I knew his eyes were on me. I slid under the sheet and turned my back to him.

"Well?"

"Do what you wish," I said to the wall. There was a long pause and then the bed sagged under his weight. "You better learn to restrain yourself," I added. "I can only stay angry so long but it won't take much to make me angry again."

"I make no promises. Would you wish me to be forsworn here?"

For some reason, that made me laugh. I rolled over to face him. "No," I said. "I would certainly not wish for that." He leaned toward me and when I did not move away, he put his hand on my waist. His fingers pressed into my flesh.

"We have burdens enough without a broken oath between us," he said.


	35. Prince of Earth

**Ch. 35…Prince of Earth**

I was trapped in the bed between Sarevok and the wall but I was in no hurry to get up. In the aftermath of yesterday's battles, I was tired. Sometimes the carnage energized me but not today. When I was sure he was awake, I rolled over. He eyed me sleepily.

"I've been thinking," I said. He moved so I could nestle against him more comfortably.

"You surprise me," he said drily.

"I'm sure. It gets worse. I've been thinking about the future." He brushed my hair back so he could see my face.

"Now you are frightening me." His face was serious but there was a smile in his eyes.

"I figured you would say that. Tell me, Sarevok. Do you think we can win this fight against Sendai?"

"I am no seer but I have no reason to doubt it," he said slowly. "Do you?"

"We have become very powerful, have we not? The six of us, I mean. Do you think any of the remaining Bhaalspawn can stand against us?"

"Melissan seemed to think we were a match for Sendai and Abazigal. I do not know what she bases that on."

"And do you trust her?"

"I do not."

"No. Me neither," I said. "I do not understand the relationship between her and Balthazar. And I think she still knows more than she is telling us. And I think there must be a fifth Bhaalspawn out there."

"Because there are five challenge rooms?"

"Yes. The fifth Bhaalspawn is still hidden from us. Maybe it's her."

"If so, then she has found a way to conceal the taint. I suppose that is possible. She is a mage."

"Maybe she is in league with whoever it is. Or she could indeed be our ally and our enemy is someone still unknown to us. Right? So when will we know who our last enemy truly is?"

"When we defeat Abazigal," he said. "The last of the Bhaalspawn will wait to see who prevails, and will most likely attack when we are weakened from the battle."

"That's what I think too. If not then, she or he will wait until we are off guard. But I don't think we will wait for long. Events are moving rapidly now. Whoever it is must be nearby, somewhere here in Tethyr. That only makes sense. So let's just make a great big assumption and say that when we are attacked, we defeat the last of the Bhaalspawn, whoever it is. What next? Bhaal's plan will almost be complete, won't it? There will be two strong Bhaalspawn left—me and Imoen. Can the prophecy be fulfilled as long as we both still live and as long as there is no massive war? Can Bhaal come back to life under those conditions?"

"Imoen has grown in power. She has taken the form of the Slayer. She has much of the taint in her now. I think—I think He cannot. There must only be one. That is what I now believe."

"Can He make us attack each other? Can He drive us to that? Make us mad? Can He make us raise armies of our own and start a war against each other?"

"You are both strong willed," he said slowly.

"He has begun to speak to her in her dreams," I said. "Hasn't He?" I was fairly sure that she confided in him more than me now, at least about Bhaal's influence.

"Yes."

"The pressure Bhaal will put on her, and on me, will be immense. Won't it? We will be the last barrier to His resurrection."

"That seems likely."

"And we will be hunted by whatever allies He has left. He will set them on us, won't He?"

"The temples were destroyed after His death but His worshippers scattered. The priests and Deathstalkers were never all accounted for. Many escaped, like Nyalee. I don't know that Bhaal has the strength to call to them though. He speaks to the Bhaalspawn through the taint but I do not know that He can control or even contact His worshippers. He is dead, after all."

"I hope He can't. It's been worrying me though. He's just not dead enough, that's the problem. So I've been thinking. What if I left?" I asked.

"What if you left Tethyr? Do you think you can outrun your destiny?"

"What if I left Faerûn?" I could see that the thought startled him. "Haer'Dalis told me once that the gods could not enter the city of Sigil. What if I went there? Could Bhaal reach me there? Could He still enter my dreams?"

"I do not know. You wish to go to the Outer Planes? Keeta, what brings on these thoughts?"

"I was thinking the warning Helm gave me," I said. "He can't want Bhaal to return any more than we do. Up until now I had thought the only way to avoid my destiny was to become undead."

"What?! What gave you this idea?"

"It's been in my mind ever since we learned what Helm did to His knights at Watcher's Keep. I thought maybe that was what He meant about losing what was dear to me. That if instead of dying I became some kind of spirit creature, it would prevent my taint from returning to Bhaal."

"Gods. This is what has been worrying you? Is this why you have been having nightmares?" He rubbed my arm, as if to warm me.

"I haven't been having nightmares."

"I sleep with you, Keeta. Do not insult me with your pitiable lies."

"Well, not real nightmares. I've just had the normal kind like everyone gets. I haven't had the kind where I dream about blood and wake up and my hands are bloody or I've stabbed the pillow or something. Anyway, I don't like to think about that stuff. But would it work, if I became undead? Would that stop Bhaal?"

"I have no idea."

"Because that would be a big sacrifice for me," I said, and my voice trembled a little. "I don't—well, let's not talk about it. Anyway, I'd kind of like to avoid that, you know." I felt a bit apprehensive when I looked up into his face because the more I talked, the stupider my ideas sounded. Sarevok seemed bemused. At least he wasn't laughing at me.

"And I thought maybe there wasn't much holding you here any more. In Faerûn, I mean."

"Only old enemies," he said.

"So I thought maybe you would come with me."

"You would leave the others behind?"

"Imoen and I must separate. I am convinced of that. And the others have their own lives to return to, when we have done what we need to do here. You and I—well, I can't think of anywhere we would be welcome, can you? We're both outlaws now. Sarevok, I don't know what your plans are."

"I have no plans that do not include you." His arm tightened around me and I sighed again, a little more happily.

"That's fine then."

"But Keeta, how will we get to Sigil? Do you know a way?"

"No. Not yet. My friend Haer'Dalis used to have a gem that would open a portal, so I know such things exist. It occurs to me that Cespenar might know where to find a portal or a portal key. He even might know how to compel our own portal to deliver us there. Or when we return to Athkatla, we can ask Haer'Dalis."

"Are we going to Athkatla? Why?"

"Have you forgotten that I am under arrest? Sometime we must return to the Order of the Radiant Heart, of course."

"That seems a good enough reason to avoid Athkatla." I laughed.

"You don't know Keldorn very well, do you? I'm in his custody. He gave his word, Sarevok."

"You are not bound by that." I shook my head a little. In some ways he didn't know me very well, either.

"If Amn decides to turn you over to Tethyr, will you meekly go? Will you stand trial and be executed for something you did not do?"

"I guess I'll try to avoid that part." He snorted.

"You can buy justice in Amn, but Tethyr is a different animal. You seem to expect justice where none exists."

"Hey, I'm a follower of Lathander. I'm supposed to be optimistic." He muttered something under his breath which probably contained the word 'fool'. "Anyway, we don't need to worry about all that today. We need to worry about Sendai. So let me up so I can get dressed."

"I think not," he said with a little smile. "You owe me restitution for your cruel words yesterday."

"My cruel words? After all the insults you heap on my head? Besides, I let you wear the Ring of Gaxx and I don't do that for just anyone. What else could you possibly want?" My lips curved and I looked at him through my lashes.

He showed me.

* * *

The bodies were gone from the walkways. Tacky pools of blood and other fluids remained as grim markers of our path of carnage.

"They're not going to come back as undead or something horrible like that, I hope?" I asked. That seemed just the kind of trick the drow would find amusing.

"I suspect the bodies were thrown over the rail," Sarevok said. "Look at the drag marks."

"Hmm." I looked over the rail. There was nothing to see. Nothing but darkness below us, and there was no telling how deep the cavern dropped. Jaheira beckoned me over and pointed down near one of the puddles of blood.

"That's a big footprint," I said.

"Your grasp of the obvious is a comfort to us all."

"And here I thought I had left Sarevok in charge of sarcasm," I muttered, making a face. "What made it? A giant?"

"I don't know."

"Then what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Be warned."

Great.

We passed through the door that the wardstone opened and found ourselves—surprise, surprise—in yet another huge cavern. There was a shimmer in the air before us and a drow woman appeared. She wore adamantine armor and carried a flail. She also wore a piwafwi cloak. I hadn't seen one of those since my memorable time in the Underdark.

"You dare much, rivvin, invading my mistress' enclave," she said. She looked us all over, her cold gaze settling upon me. "And you, rivvil, must be the Bhaalspawn we have been warned about." I took a step closer to her.

"And who might you be, drow?"

"I am Diaytha and I am your doom. Great shall be my reward for slaying you!"

"I've heard this kind of talk before," I said. "You've seen our handiwork already, I believe. I am here for Sendai. Get out of my way or share the fate of your kin." Her smile was as cold as her eyes.

"You shall see what it is to be crushed, iblith. I call upon Ogremoch, Prince of Earth! Come forth and destroy these surfacers!" Then she disappeared in a sparkle of gating magic.

There was silence, as if the very earth around us caught its breath. Then the ground began to shake under my feet, at first just a slight tremble, as if something heavy walked nearby. Imoen cast a light spell and then another but there was nothing to see.

"Scatter," Jaheira cried. "Find cover." But there was no cover here. As if realizing that, she added, "Do not stand under a stalactite!" Like there was a lot of choice. I think we all looked up though.

The earth seemed to cry out in pain, and a fissure opened before us. And out of the fissure there rose a great creature. It pulled itself out of the earth, this Ogremoch, and it was indeed the largest earth elemental I had ever seen. I had absolutely no trouble believing that it was a prince of its kind. Two more earth elementals followed it out of the ground and they were huge too.

Ogremoch roared and the earth shook. Rock rained down upon us from the ceiling above and cracks opened up under our feet. I fell to my knees and something heavy slammed into my shoulder. Jaheira let out an enormous yell and then—she changed. Flames burst out of her skin and rose in a hellish inferno, stretching to at least four or five times her natural height. She had turned to fire.

Ogremoch attacked her, slow and ponderous. She wove in and out of his reach and when she struck him, the rock itself sizzled and melted. The earth still moved under my feet like the deck of a ship in a storm, but I regained my balance and ran at one of the other earth elementals. Even at such a distance, I could feel the heat of Jaheira's elemental form.

My sword hit the earth elemental hard and chips of stone went flying. I had hit it as hard as I could with little damage to show for it. Anomen's hammer took an impressive chunk out of the creature's knee. In one fluid move, he deflected its huge fist with his shield and hit it again, crippling the elemental. I really needed to take him up on that training offer. I thought about swapping to my morning star but I didn't want to take the time to sheathe my sword and was afraid if I dropped it, the unstable earth might swallow it up.

Imoen sent a couple of skeleton warriors into the fray. She must have hasted them as well, for they moved with unnatural quickness. Before long, the earth elemental crumbled back to the rock it was made of, and we swarmed the second one, leaving Ogremoch to Jaheira and Sarevok. He had moved behind the prince and attacked while Jaheira kept its attention. Ogremoch shook its massive head and drops of molten rock flew.

As the earth prince weakened, the ground stopped shaking beneath our feet, but footing was still treacherous, due to fallen rock. I almost came to grief when my boot slipped into a crack and got wedged there. The stiffness of the boot kept me from twisting or breaking my ankle but it also made it hard to wiggle out of the jam. I started to lay down my sword to use both hands to tug at the boot, but a sudden chill warned me and I looked up.

A vampire stared straight at me. She tried to capture me with her eyes but my sword's enchantment helped me to resist. My sword came up in a one handed stroke. It was a weak blow but it cut through her flimsy clothing and opened up a large gash in her leg. She hissed and backed out of my range. Or thought she did. My foot was still trapped but I've got long legs and long arms and my sword is long too. I lunged forward in a duelist's move that I hadn't practiced since Candlekeep. Although my sword is no rapier, it still did a fine job of penetrating her chest. She fell down dead and my foot pulled free at the same time. So that worked out pretty well.

Keldorn and Anomen dropped the second earth elemental. I heard chanting but couldn't tell where it was coming from. Off to my right there was an unnatural darkness, like some heavy black cloud drifting toward us. Diaytha would be inside, no doubt. Out of the darkness, several creatures appeared. There was a huge armored undead knight. There was a hideous devil of the form that Keldorn had told me was an abishai. And looming over them was a particularly enormous beholder. I hesitated, not particularly from fear (though I felt plenty), but from indecision.

There was a roar like a landslide and the elemental prince collapsed into a pile of rubble. Jaheira's fiery head weaved back and forth like a dog seeking a scent, and then she plunged into the cloud of darkness. The chanting came to an abrupt halt. Sarevok raced towards the beholder. Good enough for me.

The damned thing floated up out of reach, so I turned on the knight. Sarevok attacked the abishai. I mainly seemed to be dulling my blade on his armor until Anomen called on Helm's power. I heard his words and knew to shield my eyes. Blinding light shone from behind me. The knight froze in place for a long moment and then it collapsed into nothingness. My eyes, accustomed to the darkness of the cave, were blinking and watering and I did not even see the beam of magic that shot down from overhead.

The beholder's beam struck Anomen and turned him to stone.

I screamed wordlessly at about the same moment that Sarevok struck the abishai a terrible blow. Devil's blood sprayed my face and my armor, smelling and tasting of my fury, and that was enough to set me off. My sword fell from my nerveless fingers as I began the change to the Slayer.

Sarevok's large hand grabbed me by the throat and he shook me hard enough to rattle my helm. I couldn't hear what he tried to tell me because the blood was roaring in my ears. Maybe I was still screaming. He struck me with the back of his hand. His gauntlet split my lip.

"You must not change, Keeta," he yelled, grabbing my shoulder this time. "Not now." He stared at me, his eyes compelling me to stay in control. The beholder—one of those immense types known as a hive mother—floated behind him, closer and closer. Its many eyes, which were armored to its lumpy body (unlike the waving eyestalks of lesser beholders) seemed to focus on us. I shoved Sarevok aside and leapt in the other direction. The beams missed us.

The creature was still too high to reach but that did not protect it from Imoen's arrows. Sarevok pulled out his crossbow, as did Keldorn. I scooped up my sword and ran into the darkness ahead. There I caught the welcome scent of burning flesh and almost tripped over Diaytha's charred body.

"We need you, Jaheira," I yelled. Her huge elemental form strode towards the hive mother and I had to run as fast as I could to keep up. "Bring it down," I hollered. Like a kitten batting at a moth, her fiery fist knocked it towards the ground. I dropped my sword and leapt on top of it.

This felt a bit like riding a gigantic inflated bladder, except its skin was much tougher. It would have been nice to have had an eyestalk or two to hang onto. I ended up hooking my left hand into the thick bony ridge over its central eye. I drew my dagger. The hive mother shot straight up into the air and tried to scrape me off against a stalactite. I couldn't tell that my considerable weight was slowing it in the least so I gripped with my legs as best I could. I dug my dagger into the horny cover over the nearest eye and soon I popped it out. Yuck.

The smaller eyes were the source of its magic attacks, and I concentrated on them. The beholder, or maybe its eye goo, had a truly horrible smell. I held on grimly and did as much damage as I could. I could hear the thud of the bolts and arrows that hit it. The hive mother rose rapidly again and slammed me against the cave ceiling. Luckily my armor distributed the blow. Better to have one really big bruise than a broken spine, I always say. Next it tried to shake me loose and so I stabbed the huge central eye.

The hive mother made a weird keening cry and swooped towards the wall. I used all my strength to rake my dagger in a deep slashing cut across the eye. I keep my dagger really sharp. We were moving so fast that my arms were drenched in slick icky eye fluids. My hand slipped off the eye ridge and I fell to the ground. It seemed a long way away. I landed on my back, right on top of my other bruises.

Huge fiery Jaheira grabbed the hive mother with her burning hands and slammed it against the cave wall two or three times. It sizzled and popped and died.

I finally focused my eyes and found that Imoen stood over me. "You're crazy," she said. "Can you get up?"

"Do I have to?"

"I don't see any hordes rushing our way."

"I'll try in a moment then. Go help Anomen."

She nodded and dug through her scroll case. Ever since the problems we had with basilisks in Baldur's Gate, I made sure we always kept a good supply of stone to flesh scrolls.

Jaheira shrank back to her normal self. She said nothing but just stared off into space for the longest moment.

"Jaheira?" I asked. She shook her head and finally looked down at me.

"That was—very strange," was all she said. Then she shook her head again. "Are you hurt?"

I twitched and all my limbs responded. I pulled myself to a sitting position, wincing and complaining as I did so.

"I feel like a training dummy after hammer drills," I said. Jaheira gave me a hand up and cast a healing spell that had me moving more freely. Then she went to help with Anomen. Sarevok brought me my sword.

Imoen's spell released Anomen from the stone. Keldorn caught his limp body before he hit the ground. I moved toward them but Sarevok's hand caught me.

"Keeta," he said. His face had that grim look I had come to dread.

"Don't lecture me," I said. His lips compressed. "I take no more risks than you or any of us."

"You are risking more than yourself when you do something foolish."

"Can you stop with the over-protective crap?"

"My own fate is tied to yours, you may recall. If that doesn't sway you, Bhaal's resurrection is also tied to your life."

"Would I have been any safer if I had stood about wringing my hands while the hive mother attacked? Maybe I should have run away and let you face it alone."

"I do not ask you to do nothing. I ask you to try for a modicum of common sense."

"According to you, I don't have any. Make up your mind."

"Keeta," he said, and this time his voice wasn't a warning. He gave a resigned sigh. "Go check on Anomen."


	36. Ambush

**Ch. 36…Ambush**

I've never been turned to stone, but I gather the process is neither as swift nor as painless as it appears. I could tell by the way the sweat popped out on Anomen's brow that returning to flesh was also terribly painful. His breath came in short gasps and he twitched uncontrollably. It looked like his muscles cramped in random spasms. I crouched down beside him.

"Can't you help him?" I snapped at Jaheira.

"I have done what I can," she said. "Nature must take its course."

Anomen's gauntleted hand banged against my boot. It looked like he was trying to control his movements and couldn't.

"—Fine," he said. I frowned. He didn't look fine or sound fine.

"He's in pain," I said.

"Pain—better," he gasped.

"You don't look like you feel better."

"I suspect he means it is better to feel pain than to feel nothing," Jaheira said. Anomen gave a jerky nod and I remembered that Jaheira had been petrified before.

"Trapped—head." I looked to Jaheira for a translation.

"When you are stone, you cannot see or hear or feel. Your mind is still conscious however. You are indeed trapped in your own head. You are not truly dead or alive, but in some state between. To stay in that form long would be to court madness." We both shuddered. It sounded like the imprisonment spell that her fellow Harpers had once threatened me with. We killed them for that.

I was aware that Sarevok paced nearby. When I looked at him, he spoke.

"We should get moving, if he is capable, or return to the pocket plane. This is not a defensible location." We were in the dark, under the earth, in the drow's dominion. It was not a good place to be. Sarevok was right.

"Help me up," Anomen told me. I rose, and a bit doubtfully, pulled him to his feet. He staggered and winced.

"Best if I walk this off," he said. Jaheira and I helped him walk around for a few moments, and then he cast a healing spell upon himself and said he was ready to go on.

"You missed a real treat," Imoen told him. "You should have seen Keeta, riding the hive mother like it was a wild horse."

"What?"

"Hush," I told her and Sarevok glared at us both.

"Tell you later," she promised Anomen. He gave me a questioning look and I shook my head at him.

The cavern was so large that we ended up spreading out a bit to search for the way out. Imoen used her light spells and Keldorn called upon Torm to make him see truly so that invisible drow could not sneak up on us. We eventually found a passageway that sloped steeply downward. It was impossible for those of us in armor to walk quietly when our boots slipped and skittered on the smooth rock. Imoen drank an invisibility potion and scouted ahead in her soft nimble boots.

She returned with a worried face.

"It's an ambush," she said. "There's a big room full of drow. They're ready for us too. They know we're coming. And there is a gallery all around the room and it is packed with crossbowmen. And I don't see any way up there. There must be a hidden stair or ladder, but I couldn't find it."

"What are their numbers?" I asked. She shrugged.

"There are two or three dozen warriors, maybe. And there are at least another two dozen archers up above."

"Can we all go invisible and just run right through?" I asked. Keldorn frowned. He hated sneaking around. Imoen shook her head.

"There are too many of them, they're blocking the way out," she said.

"A straight fight then," I said. "Any suggestions?"

"I can drop some spells on them first," she said. "But since they're drow—" Spells didn't always work on drow, due to their innate magical nature.

"I don't suppose you can do that fire elemental trick again?" I asked Jaheira.

She shook her head. "Not yet. If I spend too long in that form, I may not be able to change back."

Imoen summoned her skeleton warriors and Jaheira called up a fire elemental, which sure looked puny now that I'd seen her transformation. Anomen gave me an apologetic look and called up a skeleton warrior of his own. If we were going to be facing a lot of missile fire, it made sense to call skeletons instead of, say, cave bears, but I didn't have to like it. The bears were kind of cute and I hated the skeletons.

Invisible again, Imoen crept forward and dropped a horrid wilting on the drow. As soon as we heard the shouting, we sent in the summoned creatures. Imoen raced back to us and drew her bow. We charged into the room.

We were badly outnumbered but that didn't worry me too much. We formed a loose half ring, protecting both Imoen and our retreat and forcing the warriors to come at us a few at a time. The summoned creatures milled around the outside of our protection, striking at random targets but providing a welcome distraction to the drow.

It didn't take long for me to see that the archers were going to be our biggest problem. The crossbows the drow generally use are small but they are cleverly designed. Their bolts could penetrate normal armor and potentially even the heavily enchanted armor that we wore. I just hate being shot at from above. The archers had a clear shot at us in every direction and didn't have to worry too much about hitting their own fighters.

The room was certainly designed for an ambush. What Imoen had called a gallery was little more than a wide ledge cut into the side of the cavern. It was roughly carved, with no railing. However, there was a slight design error. The drow and their duerger workers were people of short stature. The ledge probably seemed safely high in the air to them but if I went on tiptoe, I could hook my hand over it. I thumped Sarevok on the arm to get his attention and pulled him to the wall.

"Kneel," I ordered. "Get on one knee, now." I sheathed my sword so my hands were free. He frowned but did as I said. I planted my boot on his bent leg and then stepped onto his shoulder. With a quick push, I shinnied onto the ledge before the drow quite realized what I was doing.

The archers tried to shove me right back off again, but unlike them, I was unhampered by weapons. I was also bigger and heavier than any of them. I pushed, shoved, kicked and slung them off the ledge, down into the melee below. There wasn't much room to swing a sword, so once I'd cleared a bit of space, I pulled my morning star and went to work. Bolts struck me from close range, in a staccato tempo, as the archers concentrated on me. Most of them bounced off my armor. A couple of bolts pierced my left arm, where the plate was thinner. The one that pierced my thigh was more troublesome, for it hurt when I moved. I could have really used a shield.

Luckily the rate of fire on even those small clever crossbows was pretty low and I was able to kill or dislodge the last of the archers before the warm trickle of blood had soaked all the way down to my sock. I pulled the bolt out of my thigh. It hadn't penetrated too deeply and it came right out when I tugged it. Lucky for me the bolt had a plain four-sided point with no nasty barbs. Pulling it out still hurt though. I pulled the other bolts out of my arm and threw them aside. Then I looked down. I would have liked to jump right on top of the drow with the fanciest armor but Sarevok was engaged with him. I didn't want to poach his kill and irritate him worse than I already had so I picked a different victim.

He sure didn't see me coming. My weight knocked the breath out of him, giving me time to bash in the back of his skull. The face of the drow beside him was a child's portrait of surprise: huge eyes, open mouth. I swung the morning star in a two-handed grip and smashed him into the wall. He didn't get back up.

We were clearing the room out nicely, to the point that I began to think we should block the far passage so the ambushers couldn't escape. My thought came a bit too late. Sarevok killed the commander, and the remaining drow forces broke and ran. Oh, well. We'd killed most of them.

I saw Jaheira healing her own wounds and Anomen was checking on Keldorn.

"Turn around," I told Sarevok.

"I've been hit?" he asked.

"You look like you backed into a porcupine," I said and started pulling out bolts. There were a couple of fairly tight groupings along the back edge of his cuirass, close to the weakest parts of the plate. Someone had damned good aim. Luckily I had asked Cespenar to make Sarevok a new arming coat to wear under his armor after all the damage that had been done to it recently. Its mail gussets were now made from enchanted chain cannibalized from an old mail shirt I never used any more.

"You didn't feel this?" I asked. Even when a bolt doesn't pierce through, it can still give you a pretty good thump. I certainly felt like I had been worked over with a quarterstaff.

"Not really."

I thrust my gauntlets into my belt so I could work with my bare hands. A trickle of blood ran down the inside of my left wrist. I flicked it away before it could make my palm slippery. He noticed though. Sarevok didn't miss much.

"Take us out of here," he said with a look that told me he didn't want an argument. I felt torn. We all were injured. Even Imoen had taken a wound at some point, for I saw a bloodstain on her robe. However none of us seemed badly hurt and we had plenty of healing potions. I wanted to go after those drow while they were still weak and disorganized. And I didn't want to give them time to set up another ambush, particularly here, in a room built for such.

"We shouldn't let them get away," I said.

"Keeta, we're all tired and you're not looking so good either," Imoen said. "Look, I'll cast a couple of skull traps. If anyone comes back in here, they'll get a big surprise. Okay? I'm about out of spells and so is Jaheira. We all need some rest." I sighed and agreed.

And actually, once the excitement of the fighting had worn off and we were back in the pocket plane, I realized that I didn't really feel that wonderful. Once Sarevok was patched up, he headed off to his room to read, he said. I figured he was going to do some research on Sigil. I grabbed Jaheira's arm before she could disappear and asked her to come to my room. Once there, she helped me out of my armor. It was getting harder for me to move.

"Are you hurt?" she asked and then hissed when she saw that my pants leg was soaked through.

"It's not that," I said. "I think the bleeding has stopped."

"What then?" she asked as I stepped out of my ruined pants. She got a cloth and started washing the wound. She cast a healing spell, muttering as if it were a curse instead.

"My back is really hurting." I was getting stiffer by the moment and even raising my arms to get out of my tunic and undershirt was extremely painful. I actually felt tears come to my eyes from the effort. There is something about back pain that is particularly brutal. I guess because you can't move or do much of anything without using your back.

"Your arm is still bleeding as well," she said.

"Yes, yes, but it's my back—" She looked at it.

"I—see," she said. "Lie down here on the bed."

I made her lay down a couple of old blankets first so I wouldn't bleed all over the covers, because I really hate sleeping with the smell of blood. It was actually very difficult to lie down because the pain was getting worse and worse. I managed, with some cursing and complaints, and then she left. I thought she was going for some more healing potions but she brought Anomen instead.

"Ack," I said. I was naked. "Thanks for the warning."

"Come, girl, there is nothing here he hasn't seen before," she said. True enough but I was still embarrassed. None of us were particularly modest around each other. There is so little privacy when you are camping on the road and must guard each other while bathing or using the privy. Still, there is a huge, huge difference between being naked in front of a traveling companion and being naked in front of a former lover. Anomen's face was as embarrassed as mine but when he took a good look at my back, he froze.

"How did this happen?"

Jaheira told him. His expression turned to something I had last seen on Sarevok's face.

"Gods," I said, turning my face to the pillow. "Not another lecture. I thought you of all people would understand."

He made no reply, but his hands touched my shoulders and I felt the healing energy flow into me. It felt warm and nice.

"This goes far beyond deep bruising," he said. "You've damaged your spine."

"It didn't hurt much until now."

"That's fairly common. But really, Keeta, what were you thinking—"

I turned my head and gave him a look. He didn't finish his thought. I noticed that Jaheira had left us. I suppose she figured we didn't need a chaperone.

"I'm not going to start second-guessing myself now," I said finally. "No matter how many people tell me to do so. If I have to sit down and calculate all the risks before I do something—well, I just can't. I don't work that way. Indecision will kill me quicker than anything."

"I understand." Anomen's hands moved lower down my backbone and the pain diminished. "Still—jumping on top of a hive mother—"

"Anomen, please." Now I was feeling sorry for myself. "I was hoping that you, at least, still believed in me." His hands stopped. "I know I make mistakes but I'm not really totally incompetent."

"Nobody thinks that you are," he said. I made no reply. "We fear for you," he added. After a few minutes, he said, "My lady, forgive me. I must ask. Are you and Sarevok—Keeta, are you happy?"

"I don't know," I said. "Sometimes. I—oh, gods, Anomen, I can't discuss this with _you_." He looked into my eyes. His smile was sad. I knew then, despite all that had happened, he was still the best friend I could ever ask for.

"Does it bother you, the, er, closeness of your relationship?"

"That I'm sleeping with my half-brother?" I tried to smile but my lips quivered. He really knew me too well. "It's just—you know, Anomen, we joke about it sometimes but I never really thought of Sarevok as my brother. But something Imoen said the other day—and he insists that he is my brother—am I just kidding myself? I guess I thought that Bhaal was some kind of a spirit or something when he got all those women pregnant. Is what we're doing really incest?"

"Keeta, Bhaal was originally a human, and he was a mortal again during the Time of Troubles. I think we must assume that all the Bhaalspawn were conceived in the flesh." His words and his face were calm but his eyes were worried.

"So you agree with him." I sighed. "But I've met quite a few Bhaalspawn by now and none of us look at all alike. You'd think if we had the same human father, at least some of us would resemble each other. Wouldn't we?" Something in Anomen's face alarmed me. "What?"

"You and Sarevok—there is a resemblance, Keeta."

"Oh." Great. He wouldn't have said anything if the resemblance wasn't very strong. "You're not making me feel better, Anomen."

"I apologize, my lady." His hands moved again on my back and energy flowed through me. The pain lifted. I gave a little moan of relief.

"I take back what I just said. That feels a _lot_ better." He smiled back at me. With the pain gone, my mood lightened. "Well, at least I don't look like Gromnir Il-Khan or Yaga-Shura, the fire giant. Or do I? Feel free to be brutally honest." Anomen gave me a long grave look, but his eyes twinkled a little and I could see that he was considering teasing me. I gave him a mock frown.

"You didn't meet him, but Yaga-Shura looked like a full-blooded giant, and that was one of the reasons I wondered—and anyway, how did Bhaal do it? A human male and a giant woman? I mean, really, is that even physically possible?"

"Obviously it must be possible, although I doubt that it would work the other way around. I don't see how a human woman could bear a giant's child and survive."

"Yes, but how—" We both looked at each other.

"Perhaps Bhaal used an enlargement spell," Anomen suggested. There was a pause and then we both snickered. I wondered if Cespenar would know the truth of it. Perhaps he would tell me, if I asked nicely.

"Rest now, but don't go too long without eating. Your body will need sustenance after this healing." He took the extra blanket off the couch and draped it over me.

"Thank you, Anomen." His hand stroked my hair and then he left. My eyes fluttered closed. I was exhausted.

* * *

A noise woke me. It was the rattle of dishes on the little table. I peered over at Sarevok.

"Anomen says you should eat," he said. I hadn't done a very good job of washing all the blood off earlier, but there was fresh water on the dresser and I cleaned myself up. I felt less groggy when I was done. I wrapped up in a blanket to keep off the chill and sat next to him. There was a bowl of stew, a plate of thin pancakes and a small pot of tea.

I rolled up one of the pancakes and dipped it in the stew. Not bad. Sarevok poured himself a glass of wine and sat back to watch me eat. For some reason, he reminded me of a doting parent overseeing a recalcitrant child.

"If I clean my plate, do I get a prize?" I asked. He smiled.

"Perhaps."

"I don't set much store by 'perhaps'," I grumbled but I was really hungry and gobbled everything down. "Where's my prize?"

"What would you like?"

I gave him a long look through my lashes. "Dessert, of course." He beckoned me over and I settled on his lap. His arm encircled me. "Do you have any fruit pie?" I asked. His lips turned up a bit and he shook his head. "Custard? Pastry? Candied nuts?" I leaned in closer as I spoke. I noticed that his eyes followed the edge of my blanket as it started to slip down my shoulder.

"Too bad," I pouted, assuming a face of extreme disappointment. He caught my hand before I could pull the blanket back in place. "So you have nothing special for me? Nothing at all?" He laughed and pulled me in against his chest.

"I have something you may find to your liking."

* * *

The next day, there were illithids on the menu. I fell in love with my sword all over again. I've feared mind flayers since the first time I saw one and it gave me pleasure—very great pleasure—to cut them down while their mind attacks bounced harmlessly off me.

We had already dispatched the few remaining drow forces that were willing to stand against us and the illithids appeared to be Sendai's last defense. Her inner sanctum was a circular room, meticulously carved from the native rock, with dark marble floors and a gilded ceiling. It reminded me of one of the tackier shrines to Waukeen, where aspiring merchant families held their weddings and name day celebrations.

Around the room were seven raised platforms, each containing a statue of a haughty, sharp-featured drow woman, bearing a remarkable resemblance to Sendai herself. The statues were all in different poses with different weapons and armor, like many aspects of a single goddess. I wondered if she made her people worship her images. Perhaps she had tried, but I hadn't heard any of her dying warriors calling on her name as their end came, but only upon Lolth.

Imoen jabbed me with her elbow.

"They're golems," she whispered. Sendai made golems in her own likeness? That was just plain weird.

Sendai stood in the center of the room and waited for us to approach. I was not as good as Sarevok at spotting a sibling but she was easy, dead easy. She reeked of Bhaal's blood. Instant antipathy struck me like a blow. Her eyes flicked over the men at my side and looked straight at me.

"My army has been slaughtered, falling helplessly before your might. You would have made a great ally to our cause. Alas, the time for such possibilities is past." She spoke in heavily accented Common.

"Your recruiting methods leave much to be desired."

"We lost the opportunity. We would have approached you after you killed Sarevok Anchev, but you disappeared."

"Ah." So if we had not been taken captive by Jon Irenicus, we would have learned of these Bhaalspawn much, much sooner. Was this another crime to chalk to his account, or had he inadvertently done us a favor by saving us from their plots until we were stronger and more prepared to deal with them? Her eyes had returned to Sarevok and her elegant brows drew down in a thoughtful frown and then rose in recognition.

"And despite all reports, Sarevok Anchev yet lives," she mused. Her nostrils flared. "Naught but a spark of divinity is left to him yet he still lives. I was not told of this. How can this be?" Her eyes bored into me as if she had every expectation that I would answer her question. And then her eyes widened. "You have raised him? One of the kin? What sorcery is this?" She looked at me and then at Sarevok, and then she gave another cruel laugh. "What a bull of a man. I suppose he has his uses."

"Shall I kill her now?" Sarevok asked.

"Fine by me," I said.

"Wait," she said. "I can help you. Let me join forces with you."

"No thanks," I said.

At the same moment, Sarevok asked, "What can you offer us? Your army is destroyed." I frowned at him.

"Does your male speak for you?" she asked silkily. "I had heard that surfacer females allowed their men to rule them but thought it just another lie of the matron mothers. Nevertheless I shall answer. My forces may be depleted but the resources of the Underdark are vast. Given the right opportunity, other houses will ally with us. I can arrange this."

"No thanks," I said again. I had already experienced all the drow intrigue I could stomach during my time in the Underdark.

"Wait," she said again. "I have knowledge you need. I can help you slay that proud old fool, Abazigal."

"Tell us of him," Sarevok said. Sendai smiled at him but looked at me.

"When we have an agreement, I will speak. Do we have an alliance, rivvil?" I didn't need Keldorn's warning headshake to know she was untrustworthy. She was drow and she was Bhaalspawn.

"No," I said. "We do not." Still smiling, Sendai disappeared.


	37. The End of Innocence

**Ch. 37…The End of Innocence**

One by one, the statues around the room awoke.

"You know," I said. "I had a feeling this was going to happen."

"You and everyone else, bufflehead," Imoen said. It's truly a great thing to inspire such respect in your companions. Behind me, I could hear Anomen calling upon Helm to bless us.

"Cover me," Imoen said and then she began to cast. I didn't recognize the words of her spell. Three or four of the statues began silently casting spell protections on themselves. Great. Mage statues. This was beginning to remind me of that grim little battle on the first level of Watcher's Keep. I flinched when I heard someone begin the words of the insect plague spell that had panicked me so during that particular fight and then I realized that it was Jaheira. She remembered that battle too. I hoped that insects could damage statues or at least disrupt their spells.

Tiny cracks seemed to open up in the cavern walls and even in the gilded ceiling. Centipedes and scorpions rained silently down and I heard the buzz of flies as well. The statues suffered the attack of the insects in silence but from somewhere to the right I heard a muffled drow curse. Sendai. I smiled and took a breath as the warrior statues rushed forward.

Imoen finished crying out her spell.

"Watch this," she said in a satisfied voice. I was rather busy watching the warriors but then there was a terrifying roar above my head. I had to look up for I had heard that particular roar before. There was a dragon above me, a red dragon.

To be more accurate, there was the head of a red dragon. It hovered above us and opened its giant maw. Flame poured out in a shocking inferno, knocking back all of the statues and causing the still invisible Sendai to scream in agony. Yet none of us were so much as singed.

I gaped in admiration. How had she done that? I'd never heard of such a thing. I heard Imoen's smug laugh as I ran forward to press the attack. Sarevok joined me, while Jaheira and Keldorn moved back to guard Imoen. I knew they would also try to dispel the mages' protections and invisibility. Anomen finished the prayer that called forth a deva. He swooped off to my right, mace to the ready, and a moment later, Sendai became visible.

I attacked the three nearest statues with my whirlwind attack. I got in a lucky hit and one of them, already blackened and scored by the dragon's breath, crumbled to bits almost immediately. My armor deflected the blows of the other two as I hacked away at them. Suddenly I felt a tingling in my blood and all action seemed to slow around me. I realized that Imoen must have cast a haste spell upon me. I grinned and tore into the two statues, suddenly finding it simple to dodge their attacks.

Pain flared from my left side. It felt like an arrow had pierced straight through my armor but there was nothing there. With my new-found speed, I took an instant to scan the room and saw the archer who targeted me. She must be using magical arrows, the kind made of pure energy. I decided to see how she liked the feel of my blade as soon as I finished off the two statues already on my dance card, but Anomen beat me to it. And that was just as well, for as soon as I dropped them, Sendai broke away from the deva and rushed to the wall behind her.

I realized that she must have a hidden exit and I ran after her. Imoen's spell gave wings to my feet, but before I could reach her, Sendai yanked the door open and screamed something in the drow tongue. It was a cry for aid, I had no doubt. I looked behind me. Only two statues still stood, and not for long, by the looks of it. I braced myself to hold Sendai's reinforcements—but no one came.

I grabbed her arm before she could run off down the passage. I listened for a moment and heard nothing. No one was there. I slammed the door shut and dragged the drow half-breed away from it.

"Looks to me like your remaining forces have deserted you," I said as I watched Anomen and Sarevok destroy the last of the statues. I saw the same resigned knowledge on her own face. Her drow warriors would not stand with her and die if they had a route of escape. It was not their way.

Sendai wriggled out of my grip, but instead of fighting, she threw herself to her knees before me.

"Spare me, and I shall serve you," she said.

I looked down at her. Even in defeat, Bhaal's power was still strong within her, prickling me like a shirt made of sparks. She would serve me, all right, until there was a chance to stab me in the back or murder me in my sleep. I gave her a faint smile. She must think me a total fool.

**Take her, daughter.**

There was a hint of relief in her eyes as I slowly sheathed my sword. I could still feel the blood pounding in my veins. The room was very quiet. Still smiling, I put my hand on her throat and dragged her to her feet. I was not gentle either. She did not struggle against me but her breathing betrayed her fear. The room smelled of blood—hers, mine, and that of my companions. I drew my dagger and let her see it.

"There is only one way you can serve Me now," I said. She stared at the sharp blade. I could feel a dark presence looking through my eyes and it was not the Slayer, not exactly. Sarevok took a step towards me. His eyes glowed. The expression on his face distracted me, so I lowered my gaze to the half-drow. This was her moment. She deserved all my attention now.

**Kill her, daughter.**

"No!" Keldorn cried but I did not look away from Sendai's face. She gave me a venomous look and took breath, no doubt to curse me. I cut her throat before she could speak. Her blood ran out in a warm stream over my gauntlets, down her breastplate, onto the black marble floor, to the toes of my boots. I let her fall as she gasped through her severed air pipe. I stared at my blade and I felt the urge to lick it clean. Now I understood a little of Yaga-Shura's obsession with eating the hearts of his enemies because it wasn't enough just to kill her. I wanted to take her within me.

**You please Me, child.**

Sarevok took the dagger from my hand and thrust it into my belt sheath. His hot eyes bored into me and suddenly I was racked by a great shudder.

"Oh, gods," I cried. He closed his arms around me and that was when Sendai breathed her last and the power rolled over us.

Like after Yaga-Shura's death, we were dragged back to the pocket plane, just Sarevok and I. I was aware that the Solar stood before me but I ignored her and clung to Sarevok.

"This is going to get worse," I whispered. "Isn't it?"

He made no reply but his silence was answer enough. It seemed strange indeed to see compassion in his eyes and for such a cause. I shuddered again and we turned to face the Solar.

"I greet you once again, god-child. The second of your revelations awaits you."

I nodded. Could this be any worse than the revelation I had when I took Sendai's life? I certainly hoped not.

"I hope you have pondered your origin, for any beings of great power must know much of themselves before they can put reason to their actions. Let us continue." She looked at us both.

"This time we are not concerned with your past, god-child. Now we will look at your present. The prophecy proceeds towards its climax, as I am sure you are well aware. Your place in this prophecy is what is in question, perhaps. This question will be answered, this once, by yourselves."

The air flickered by the Solar's left side and two figures emerged from an invisible door. They wore clothing of strange design. The exceedingly tall male was clearly an image of Sarevok although without his tattoos, and with his hair grown long and pulled back in a tail. This, along with his plain clothes and lack of any personal adornment, gave him something of an ascetic look. The woman, then, must be meant to be me. Her hair was pulled back in a similar style and it didn't look like her nose had been broken once, let alone multiple times, but other than that, I assumed we looked alike. Seeing the two of them together, I could see what Anomen had meant. The resemblance was indeed striking.

They stared at us, and their faces mirrored the questions I felt.

"I am Sarevok," the man said.

"I am Keeta," the woman said. "We are spawn of Bhaal. Why are we here?"

"You are here to tell yourself of the prophecy and your own place in it," the Solar told her. The Solar turned to us. "If you are to have a say in which path you must take, listen as you speak."

"So," the woman said. "This is a copy of myself that I address, Solar?" I gave her an indignant look (for I was no copy) but the Solar spoke.

"She is a piece of you. Perhaps from another time, another dimension—but she is you, nevertheless. Speak to yourself of Alaundo's prophecy, I bid you."

"Yes," the woman said. "I was once taught of the prophecy in this way, wasn't I? The memory is strangely unclear." She took a breath. "It only makes sense that I would do it myself in the future. Listen closely. You are the center of the prophecy, but not in the way you may think. You bring murder to all you touch, that is true—the ones you hate, the ones you help, and even the ones you love."

She and the other Sarevok turned to gaze at each other and their hands touched for a moment. In her world, in her time, had she loved him too? Had she killed him as well? He looked at me as if he heard my silent question.

"Murder is part of your nature," he said. "But this is not what the prophecy speaks of. The Bhaalspawn shall bring chaos and destroy much of Faerûn—but this is not done by you. You have already killed several of those Bhaalspawn who the prophecy speaks of, those who would bring this destruction. You bring death, yes, but it is nothing like what they would do if they are successful."

The woman took a step towards me.

"You are here to stop them, Keeta," she said. "Whether you intend to or not, you exist to prevent the prophecy from coming true. The prophecy warns of your failure—not of you."

"So it is as I have hoped," I said. "I have no desire to cause the destruction the prophecy tells of."

"I felt as you do, once," she said. Her voice was heavy with regret and her eyes held a deep sadness. She felt regret? Did that mean that she had failed? She looked at the Solar and then took another step towards me. "Brace yourself for what comes next," she whispered. "I'll tell you that much."

The other Sarevok stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her and I could swear that I saw tears come to her eyes. Her Sarevok stared straight at mine in what seemed to be a warning of some sort, but I could read no more of his expression than I could of the man at my side. Her Sarevok opened his mouth as if to speak, but the Solar held out her hand and they both disappeared.

"You have been counseled by your own self," the solar said. "You are now aware of your place in these events, and why you are here. Not every soul gets such an opportunity."

"Thank you, Solar." _Thanks for another meaningless revelation_, I thought bitterly. _Thanks for cutting it short before we could get any useful information_. However if our copy-selves were from another dimension, maybe their future was too different from ours to be helpful. Like other prophecy, maybe their warnings would only make sense when it was too late to change anything.

"Then there is but one more question before you may return to your path," the Solar said. "When you return to the waking world, you will continue to speed towards your purpose—stopping the prophecy from coming true. My question is: why will you do this?"

"This destruction is wrong," I said. "It goes against everything I believe in. It must be stopped."

"It is wasteful," Sarevok added. "It serves no purpose but to bring Bhaal back. We do not want this."

"Perception is truth in this one instance, god-child. Consider what you have learned. Farewell." She disappeared.

I waited for us to be gated back to Sendai's enclave but nothing happened.

"Why are we still here?" I asked Sarevok. "After Yaga-Shura died, we were sent back immediately."

"Perhaps it is because the others are in no danger. As you recall, the Solar came with us last time and dispersed Yaga-Shura's army," he said. "Or perhaps we are meant to face this next challenge alone."

I put my arms around him and laid my cheek against his breastplate. Armored hugs are not very satisfying and I felt an almost desperate need to touch his flesh. I rose up on tiptoe and kissed him. It was a long, clingy and needy kiss.

"What does it mean?" I asked him. "Why was that future me so sad? Will this be like Saradush all over again? I don't know if I can bear another failure, Sarevok, not on top of everything else."

"We will not fail."

"How do you know that?"

"Our presence in the future implies that we survive. If we survive, then we do not fail."

"That was _a_ future, not necessarily _our_ future. Besides, I'm not so sure that our survival is any guarantee that we were successful in defeating the prophecy." He gave me a wry look. Survival was good enough for him, I gathered.

"I thought that your god demanded optimism."

It was hard for me to feel very optimistic when I so clearly remembered the strength of my desire to taste Sendai's blood. I held him harder.

"What is wrong with me?" I asked. "She begged me for mercy and I murdered her." And I enjoyed doing it. That was perhaps the worst part.

"You could not let her live," Sarevok said but I heard a trace of regret in his voice and it felt like a tiny betrayal.

"You wanted me to spare her?" He shook his head, but at my look he spoke.

"She had valuable information. I know that you had little choice in what you did but I would have liked the chance to interrogate her."

Oh.

"She would never have talked unless I swore to free her," I said. Sarevok just raised his brows. "Would you have me break an oath?"

"No. She would have talked, eventually."

"Keldorn would never stand for us torturing a prisoner," I said. "Not even a drow." My brief acquaintance with Sendai had been enough to convince me that threats alone would not suffice. I wasn't so sure torture would either but I was willing to concede that my Deathbringer lover knew more than I about such things.

"I don't think Anomen or any of the others would stand for it either, to be fair." I sighed, wishing that I could claim the higher ground for myself as well. "As it is, I'm not so sure Keldorn will forgive me for killing her after she surrendered. He may leave us over that alone."

"She did not deserve mercy. She was evil."

"Sarevok," I said. "So am I. You were there. Did you not feel it? It was _Him_. He was as close as my own shadow."

"It is as you said earlier," he said. "Our father needs you to kill all the kin. He will press you in every way that He can."

I didn't say what I knew we both were thinking. Bhaal was stronger now. He was much stronger. I could feel His presence outside of dreams now. I had not been able to withstand Him, and that was before Sendai had died. What could He make me do now?

"I hate this," I said, and I drew my sword. "Let's see what is in that challenge room."

We walked into the new room and came face to face with—me. Again.

This was not some strange me from some unknown place and time. This was a younger me from my own life. This was the lanky gawky me with the sprinkle of acne on the nose that had only been broken once, the me whose hair Imoen had recently bobbed just below my ears, the me from my sixteenth summer. She cocked her head when she looked at me.

"I am a part of you that you have forgotten, Keeta. I am a piece of you that you have set aside." She walked partly around me, taking in my general appearance, and her nose wrinkled a bit when she saw the blood on my gauntlets. "It was I that grew up in Candlekeep unaware of my heritage—unaware of the base evil that lurked in my soul. I left my home long ago with bright eyes to face the world."

Actually I had left my home in confused haste and soon found myself fleeing for my life but I let her words slide. She wasn't really me, not even a copy. There was no point in arguing with a spirit puppet.

"I am your innocence, Keeta. I need not be lost forever. You need not drive me from your heart. Your struggle against the taint of our father has eroded me, but I am not gone yet. You can still reclaim me!"

"_You_ are my innocence?" I asked, letting my incredulity be heard.

"This plane is an extension of yourself, as am I. You have a need to address your dwindling innocence, and so you have brought me forth. What you decide here has power, though not all decisions are conscious ones. Were you to decide to restore me, it would be so. You would be an innocent anew, just as the day you left Candlekeep so long ago. The horror of recent events would be forever behind you."

"What do you mean, it would be behind me? It would never have happened? That seems impossible. Or would I just forget it all? Why would I want to do that?"

"Do you wish to keep fighting the same endless battle against the nature you were born with? Think, for a moment, at how much you have changed since that fateful day in Candlekeep. You have killed many, bathed yourself in blood. And the darker portions of your soul have come forth whether you have liked it or not." She gave Sarevok a curious look. He watched her with a very strange expression.

"You know this will only continue," she said. "You have suffered so much already. Gorion is dead, as are so many other friends. You know that this road you are on only leads to more loss. Let us return to a time when such trials did not have to be faced. Reclaim me, Keeta. Let us both be born anew."

"Be born anew? Am I to forget everything that has happened to me?" Forget not just the friends I had lost but also the friends I still had? Was I to forget the love I had known as well as the heartbreak I had suffered? Was I to forget everything I had learned?

"No," I said. "I do not want that."

She turned to Sarevok.

"What about you, brother? Would you return to the time of your innocence?"

"I have no innocence to recover," he said with a hard laugh.

"There you are wrong," she said. "You have forgotten it, perhaps, but there was a time when you, too, were innocent. There was a time before Gorion killed your mother on the very steps of Bhaal's altar—before you sold your body to strangers on the streets for food or shelter—before Rieltar strangled your foster mother in your presence. There was a time before you chose to embrace the evil that surrounded you instead of trying to escape it."

"Do you think I am such a fool as to wish to return to being a babe in arms?" he asked, but he looked at me as he said it. Did he think I would contradict him? Did he imagine I wished him to be other than he was?

"There is no going back to what has already passed," I said. "What you offer is no answer for either of us."

"I see. So there is no room for innocence in the heart of an immortal?" My brows rose at that. "Such is as it was meant to be. With innocence dead, the path to that which is immortal within you lies one step closer. Face it—if you dare."

That was all the warning either of us needed. As she changed shape, I took a two handed grip on my sword. When the Slayer stood before us, we both attacked. We had fought together so many times now that we had no need for thought or coordination. We fought; it died. The end of innocence was bloody, as was the end of most things, in my experience.

If only it were so easy to defeat the Slayer within myself.


	38. Discomfort

**Ch. 38…Discomfort**

The portal returned Sarevok and me to Sendai's sanctum, where the others waited.

"What happened?" Anomen cried.

"We were sent to the pocket plane," I said. "This happened the last time I killed one of the Five," I added, in case no one had bothered to fill him in.

"You've been gone a long time," Imoen said. "A lot longer than the first time."

"Oh," I said. The Solar had manipulated time before, but apparently not this time. "We opened another challenge room."

"You've been wounded," Anomen said. "You both have."

"We're okay, we drank potions," I told him. "Look, I'll explain what happened later but I'd really like to get back to the surface." I looked down at Sendai's body. "This place makes me uncomfortable."

"I, too, feel great discomfort here," Jaheira said.

I looked at Keldorn. He remained silent but he gave me a meaningful look and I knew he had words planned for me. I gave him a nod of acknowledgement. The gravity of his expression gave me a feeling of dread. We were past the point where he could just leave if he did not agree with my actions. I was under arrest and in his custody. If he judged my actions evil, he would confront me, and if he felt I was irredeemable—well. I was afraid I knew what he would have to do.

We kept our guard up, but save for a stray spider or two, any surviving denizens of the caverns stayed out of our way. We made good time. It was nighttime in the forest when we emerged from the cave. Imoen had been stumbling from weariness for some time and I figured I was not the only one who longed for a hot meal and a soft bed. Jaheira took a deep breath of fresh surface air and some of the tension left her face.

"Keeta, would you object if I do not return to the pocket plane tonight?" she asked me. "I will camp nearby and meet you here later."

"I don't object," I said slowly. "Will you be safe here alone?" She gave me a condescending smile.

"Oh, I certainly believe so," she said.

"Um, Jaheira?" Imoen said. "Do you think—could I camp with you here tonight?"

I was too astonished to do more than just stare at her. Imoen was no stranger to roughing it in the wild and she had never shown the outright disdain for the woods that Sarevok had, but I had never known her to pass up the chance of a hot bath.

"I—well, of course, Imoen, if that is your wish," Jaheira said, although it was plain to me at least that Imoen's presence would put a crimp in Jaheira's own communing-with-nature plans. But Jaheira, although taken aback, seemed nowhere near as surprised by this request as I felt. In fact, no one else seemed overly surprised or shocked. Imoen was avoiding my company and everyone else knew why.

"Do you need any supplies?" I asked rather harshly. I knew that they both preferred to carry light packs with only the barest essentials.

"Nature will provide," Jaheira said airily. Her eyes avoided mine. Imoen fiddled with her pack and did not look at me either.

"Is anyone _else_ staying here?" My voice was pretty sarcastic. Apparently not, so I took the men to the pocket plane.

My first impulse was to go straight to my room to sulk, but that seemed cowardly, craven and childish so I began stripping out of my armor in the main hall with the others. Sarevok loosened my straps for me while Anomen and Keldorn assisted each other. There's more than one reason why knights have squires. A very agile person can get in and out of most plate armor alone (if you don't mind a sloppy fit that sooner or later will get you killed) but it takes about ten times longer than having a little help.

"So," I said, once we had laid our armor in neat little piles for Cespenar. "Does anyone want to tell me about Imoen or am I supposed to just scratch my head and wonder?"

I finally got the ties loose so I could slide out of my arming coat. That damned magic arrow I'd been hit with earlier had put a hole right through it. For some reason, Cespenar didn't like to sew so I'd probably end up having to mend it myself. I didn't like to sew either.

Anomen and Keldorn looked at each other.

"I believe she fears you," Keldorn said.

"Ah. She fears me," I said flatly. "Since when?" But I figured I knew the answer to that one. "Since I killed Sendai?"

"Bhaal entered you today," Keldorn said. "She felt this, as did we all. I would speak to you of this further." I just looked at him. "In private," he added, since obviously I wasn't getting the full hint.

"Very well," I said, suppressing my sigh. When Keldorn wished privacy, it never meant anything good. Not that I was exactly expecting any cheery good news from Torm's paladin.

"No," Sarevok said. "Anything you have to say to Keeta shall be said in my presence." I looked at him in some surprise. Did he think Keldorn would draw the Holy Avenger and slay me if we were alone? I suppressed another sigh. Was I so certain that he wouldn't?

"I feel that I have the right to hear what you have to say as well, Keldorn," Anomen said. Keldorn drew down his heavy brows at that but Anomen did not back down. Keldorn looked back at me. I gave a small shrug.

"I don't object." I gave a mental sigh at the postponement of the hot bath I'd been craving. "Let's go sit down."

They followed me to the common room and we sat around a table. Cespenar tried to bring us drinks but Anomen shooed him away.

"Tell me what happened to you today when you slew Sendai," Keldorn said.

"She knelt before me," I said. "I could feel the power in her. It hurt me, like ants biting all along my skin. Her mouth said she would serve me but her eyes told me she would betray me. I don't see how I could have let her live, Keldorn, I really don't. This is a battle to the death between us Bhaalspawn, and there can be no surrender." I hadn't really understood that myself until the words left my mouth. I looked up from my hands to see his reaction. His eyes were noncommittal.

"Are you an executioner? What right do you have to pass judgment on her or the other Bhaalspawn?" His voice held no accusation. I thought he was testing me, to see if I had thought this through. So I paused before I answered him.

"This is the task the gods have given me," I said. Then I described our encounter with the Solar and the battle against my 'innocence'. He gave me a thoughtful nod.

"I felt Bhaal's presence within you today. Tell me what happened."

"My father spoke to me. He was with me. I felt Him." He was pleased with me but I did not think Keldorn needed to hear that. Nor did he need to hear how much pleasure it had given me to kill Sendai.

"You did not fight his influence. You did not struggle. You made no attempt to regain control."

"He was just there. I had no warning." I sighed and lowered my eyes. "No, Keldorn, I did not fight him."

"You are losing the battle to the taint," he said.

"I suppose I am," I said. "I think that is what is meant by the death of my innocence. Perhaps that is the sacrifice I am required to make." I looked at Keldorn. "So, if you are planning to execute me for my evil Bhaalspawn nature, I think it would be in everyone's best interests to wait until after I kill the other evil Bhaalspawn. Let me prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled. The Solar implied that I am the only one who can do this."

"Is this your understanding as well?" he asked Sarevok.

"Yes."

"And what of Imoen?" Keldorn asked. "You are losing control, Keeta. Will you kill her as well?" I looked at Sarevok.

"We have a plan for that," I said, and I told them of our hopes to go to Sigil and avoid any further influence from the gods.

"Will it work?" I asked him.

"I do not know," he said. He looked very tired. "Please, Keeta," he said. "Pray to your god for guidance and strength. I am very concerned about what happened today. I am not sure what any of us could have done differently, but it is an ill path you walk, my friend, an ill path. I, too, will pray for guidance."

* * *

Looking at the map, it was going to be a long march to get to Abazigal's enclave. We would have to walk at least half way back to Amkethran before we could start working our way through what I guessed was going to be some very difficult terrain. I wore my travel leather and a soft comfortable pair of boots. My simple plan was to move quickly and avoid any conflicts.

"Why can't the portal place us here?" I asked Cespenar, showing him the map.

"You have never been there," he said, flying up and down restlessly when I frowned at him.

"But it took me to Watcher's Keep and I had never been there before."

"Yes but you needed to be there, oh yes. Gods' will and all that."

"Well, I really need to be here now," I said, pointing to the map again. "I'm pretty sure the gods would agree with me. Some of them, anyway. I know Bhaal would. Why should we have to walk all that way when we have a magic portal?"

"Sorry, master," he twittered in agitation. "Gods' rules, not Cespenar's rules."

So the chances of making the portal take us to Sigil seemed slight. Great.

Jaheira and Imoen were waiting in the forest clearing. Imoen gave me a bleary-eyed look, for which I felt a certain amount of satisfaction.

"Did you have an enjoyable evening?" I asked with mild maliciousness.

"Bugs, a lousy dinner, rocks under my bedroll, and more bugs," she said with a grimace. "Jaheira thought it was grand." She jerked her head at me and we stepped away from the others. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything but I just didn't think I could stand another night in the pocket plane."

"Believe me, I do understand that," I said. At least I had the power to leave when I wished (even if Sarevok fussed about it) but the others were at the mercy of me and my portal key.

"And—" She gave me a tentative look. "Yesterday, Keeta, your power—well, it really rubbed me the wrong way. Literally." She gave a little shiver. "I still feel it now, like little knives all under my skin. And the thought of being cooped up next to you—I just couldn't stand it."

"Sendai made me feel that way," I said. "I suspect you are going to have to get used to it."

"Do you feel it from me?" I shook my head.

"Not yet," I said.

"Not yet? Do you think it's going to get worse?"

"That would be my guess." I gave her a rueful look. "I'm afraid Dad will insist."

"I don't know if I can get used to it," she said frankly. "I don't want to be like you. I saw what you did to Sendai. I don't want that, Keeta. I wish I had never felt the Slayer. I think about it a lot now, whether I want to or not. And the more I am around you, the worse it gets."

"When this all is over, Sarevok and I intend to go to Sigil. That is how we plan to avoid any conflicts between you and me." Her eyes widened as if she hadn't quite thought out that part of our problem. "But until the other Bhaalspawn are gone, I think we need to stay together, Imoen. I know this is hard but you know what will happen if one of them takes you." She nodded. "Besides," I said. "I need you."

"I will try," she said. "But just give me some space. I mean, the way I feel right now—I don't even know if I can cast a spell."

"I think it would be best if you and Jaheira scout ahead," I said. "You can hide or use invisibility and she can go in an animal shape, if she wants. I'm concerned that we may run into some of Abazigal's scouts, or Tethyrian army patrols perhaps. Would you do that?"

"Sure," she said.

"Will it help?"

"Maybe."


	39. Draconis

**Ch. 39…Draconis**

It took several weary days of slogging over broken terrain before we approached Abazigal's enclave. We chose to do most of our walking during the evening hours, for the sun was brutal and there was no shade once we left the forest. We traveled what was little more than a trail, but Balthazar's map was heavily annotated with landmarks so we could be reasonably certain we were on the right track. Much of the way we were able to follow wagon tracks, many of them weeks old, Jaheira believed, but still clear. There was only wind to erase the tracks, no rain. I wondered if it ever rained in this place. It was not so desolate or lifeless a place as the Marching Mountains but it was close.

It had been a long time since we had been able to resupply our food stores and we had to rely on Cespenar's scavenging. I'd learned to avoid his breakfast bacon and sausages but sometimes even the smell was enough to make me run from the table.

"When were you going to tell me?" Sarevok filled the doorway to Cespenar's little kitchen. I looked up from the basin the imp had brought me. I frantically waved him away. Cespenar, I noticed, had crept behind me. Little coward. I finally finished my unpleasant business and swigged down some tea.

"Gods," I said. "Can't I have some privacy? Do I loom over you when you're in the privy?"

"Are you ill?"

"What in the hells do you think? I'm doing this for fun? It's this damned Abyssal slop we're eating."

"Is not!" Cespenar squeaked.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked again.

"About Cespenar's lousy food? I thought you could experience that for yourself."

"Don't play me for a fool. Do you think I know nothing of women? Do you think I cannot count the days?"

I could feel the blood run out of my face. "It's the food," I whispered.

"How many times have you been sick?"

"Five times," the imp said. "Nasty, nasty. Cespenar can count too!"

"Beat it," I told him and I didn't have to tell him twice. A blink and he was gone.

"Tell me the truth. Do you carry Anomen's child?"

"I'm not pregnant!"

"Do you? Is that why you wear his ring?"

"You!" I couldn't believe he was harping on that again. "I'm a warrior, it is very common for me to miss my lunar flows. Jaheira says it is because I am so muscular. I'm not pregnant. But if I was, what makes you think Anomen is the father? He took precautions to protect me. You've been in my bed too, you may recall. You just got out of it in fact."

"I? No—no, there hasn't been time."

"You said you could count! Take off your boots if your fingers aren't enough."

"Life cannot come from death. I cannot—"

"You felt pretty damned alive, last I checked." He felt plenty alive when I pushed him out of my way. His eyes blazed. I expect mine did too. How dare he scare me like this? I wasn't pregnant. I couldn't be. Because if I was—no.

The sooner we found Abazigal, the better. I was ready to kill something.

* * *

Once we thought we were about half a day's travel from the enclave, we teleported back to the pocket plane and changed into our fighting gear. I feared that as we drew closer we would run into Abazigal's scouts and they would likely prove unfriendly. But we met another party of travelers first.

It was Imoen who came back to tell us the news.

"There is a small group camping up ahead," she said. "There are maybe a dozen of them and they are dressed like the monks from Balthazar's monastery."

What were Balthazar's people doing here? If they were wearing his colors openly, presumably they were not spies.

"It won't be hard to avoid them," Imoen said.

"I think perhaps we should speak to them," I said slowly. Sarevok nodded in agreement.

"We have been away from Amkethran for quite some time now," he said, casting a dark look at Anomen. It wasn't quite fair to blame him for our delay but it was probably smarter to blame Anomen than to blame Helm. "They may have news."

The six of us against perhaps a dozen of Balthazar's people were odds that did not greatly concern me, particularly since we were catching them in their bedrolls, so to speak.

So Jaheira and Imoen stayed in the shadows, just in case, and the rest of us marched right up to the campsite. The couple of monks on watch hurriedly woke the others and they formed a loose half circle in front of their banked cook fire. No one had drawn a weapon but they looked wary. Did they think we were brigands approaching them bold as brass? I tensed when a slight woman with gray hair braided in a long tail cast a spell, but it was just a light spell.

One of the monks stepped forward to greet us. His face was familiar. He was one of the guards from the gates of Balthazar's monastery.

"Identify yourselves, strangers," he said. His face changed as he recognized me. "Keeta Bhaalspawn," he said and his voice, already unwelcoming, became icy.

"Keeta of Candlekeep is how I'm known," I corrected.

"Not to us," he muttered. "What do you want?"

"News," I said and left it at that. We stared at each other.

"We have nothing to say to you," the monk said but the gray haired mage interrupted him.

"Be silent, Roban," she said. "I wish to hear what they have to say." Then she turned to me. "My name is Libet. We travel to Abazigal's enclave to deliver a message from Balthazar."

"For all we know—" Roban began.

"I said be silent," she snapped. "It will be dawn soon. Go oversee the packing up of the camp." He gave me an ugly look as if I were the one who just yelled at him and then set to his task.

"I apologize," Libet said. "We are rather tense. We are the second delegation Balthazar has sent. There has been no word from the first group and we are concerned with their fate. You haven't seen any from our order, have you?"

"No," I said. "We have seen no travelers whatsoever." We exchanged news. There had been no further Bhaalspawn sightings or activity since we had left Amkethran, which was good, but did leave us all wondering what exactly Abazigal was up to. Balthazar had decided to take the direct approach of asking him, and the disappearance of his first envoys was cause for concern. Libet was overjoyed at the news of the destruction of Sendai.

"We don't believe our people ran afoul of brigands. There are none in this area that we know of," she told me. "And we watch these roads. The only caravans that pass this way take supplies to Abazigal and they are heavily guarded. Likewise, I find it highly unlikely that our people could have simply become lost." Judging by the accuracy of the maps that Balthazar had given us, I tended to agree.

"They may have met with some accident but we suspect treachery on Abazigal's part," she said.

"Or treachery from some other source," Roban said as he extinguished the cook fire. Libet frowned at him.

"So I would propose that we join forces and travel to the enclave together," she said.

"Why?" I asked, not because it was a bad idea but because I wished to hear what she had to say.

"We have intelligence of the enclave that could be of great use to you," she said.

"Intelligence? Has Balthazar been spying on Abazigal?" I asked. She gave me an opaque look.

"If Abazigal has turned against our order, Balthazar will need to know as quickly as possible. And if he is hostile, we may have need of each other. Abazigal is a formidable opponent. Shall we travel together? What do you say?"

"Does Balthazar plan to attack Abazigal?" I asked.

"No," she said, a little quickly, I thought. I glanced over at Keldorn. He raised one brow slightly. He found her statement questionable, I guessed, but not an outright lie. "But he will protect his interests here, with force, if that becomes necessary. Abazigal is a dangerous neighbor, and one who must be watched carefully. Do you understand?"

I thought I did. It was quite clear that Balthazar and his Order of the Rude Souls had no liking or trust for Bhaalspawn. Any Bhaalspawn. Even for Bhaalspawn who were sent to him for aid by his ally Melissan. Of course they wouldn't trust a Bhaalspawn neighbor.

"What can you tell me of Abazigal and his enclave?" I asked.

"Abazigal built his stronghold here long ago," she said. "We believe it is he who drew Sendai to this part of the Realms."

"I thought it was Alaundo's prophecy that brought the other Bhaalspawn here," Sarevok said.

"Perhaps," she said slowly. "I do not know. He settled here long before Alaundo's words were written, but who can say? Prophecy plays itself out in strange ways, after all."

"Before his words were written? Just how long has Abazigal been here?" I asked.

"Several centuries, as best we can tell," she said. The mage smiled at my dropped jaw.

"Explain," Sarevok said impatiently.

"As far as we know, Abazigal is the oldest of Bhaal's children."

"And what _is_ he, to be centuries old?" I asked. "Not a lich, I hope. Is he half drow, like Sendai?"

"Oh, no," Libet said. "He is half dragon."

"Well," I said to Sarevok, as the combined group began the trek to the enclave. "A dragon. Dad sure got around, didn't he?" He just cut his eyes at me.

"And if he was born before the Time of Troubles—then he is different from the rest of us. He was not conceived as a—a temporary vessel for Bhaal's essence. So is he tainted like us?" Sarevok shrugged.

"I would assume that he is, if Bhaal is his sire. The taint comes from Bhaal's blood, after all."

Assumptions. Ugh.

"So do you think Abazigal was meant to be Bhaal's heir? Maybe like Bane's son, Iyachtu Xvim? And if so, why were all the rest of us necessary?"

"Bhaal has not confided in me," Sarevok said drily. "We became necessary because Bhaal wishes to be resurrected and not merely supplanted by his son. Does it matter?" he asked. "We still have to kill him."

Well, there was that.

"Know anything about half dragons?" I asked him.

"Only what everyone knows."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "Thanks for the condescension. Well, is he going to be more like a man? A dragon? Or both?"

"Which possibility seems the most dangerous?"

"Oh, I guess a dragon with all the capabilities of a man."

He gave me a smile. It was not a happy smile. "Add in all the capabilities of a Bhaalspawn. One who is centuries old."

Great.

* * *

The entrance to Abazigal's stronghold was basically a big dragon-sized hole in the ground. I looked at Jaheira and she gave a little grimace. Once again, our way lay under the earth. The surrounding area had been cleared of any cover. That made me nervous. Old wagon tracks led to the hole. As we approached, I could see that there was a ramp leading down. So presumably we would not have to climb down a rope. I had enough of that in the Underdark.

We had been spotted. A person awaited us at the top of the ramp. Libet approached and told this sentry that she was here to see Abazigal. There was something about his eyes that made me wonder if he was as human as he looked. The rest of us stood in the background like good little minions.

"I will have him informed," the guard said, but with such a disrespectful sneer to his lips that my suspicions were raised to a new pitch. Libet and Roban exchanged a very sour look. This was strangely reminiscent of our charming reception at Balthazar's monastery. Maybe there was something in the desert air that fostered rudeness and inhospitality.

After a long wait under the burning sun, the sentry returned and he was not alone. It was hard to penetrate the darkness down the ramp but from the slight echo rising from the pit I got the impression that quite a few guards were staying out of sight. I gave Jaheira another look—her senses were keener than any human—and she gave me another grimace. A man strode towards us. He had no tail but for a moment there, I might have taken him for one of the lizard folk. His hands were clawed. Scales the color of dead moss crept up his long, narrow face. Was this Abazigal himself? Was this what a half dragon looked like?

"Who dares disturb Draconis?" he thundered.

Draconis? Who in the Nine Hells was he?

As if sensing my confusion, Libet turned her head to me and mouthed, "Abazigal's son."

Abazigal's _son_?!

"Is it more pestering emissaries from the cloistered monastery?" Draconis asked. "I thought that surely when the last batch did not return, Balthazar would have learned his lesson."

"What do you mean by that?" Libet asked angrily.

"I should think my meaning was plain enough," Draconis said. He raised his hand, a signal to whoever was behind him. "But perhaps I should send Balthazar your heads to avoid any future misunderstandings."

Sarevok and I drew our swords at the same time in a double hiss of steel. Draconis snapped his gaze towards us. His eyes had vertical pupils, like a snake.

"I smell the taint of Bhaal on you," he said. I did not sense the taint on him but I couldn't always tell.

"Stand aside, Draconis," I said. "I seek Abazigal."

"My father warned me of you, Keeta of Candlekeep. You are the Bhaalspawn who would steal his destiny and my birthright."

"Your birthright?"

He snorted and took a step towards me.

"As if a mere human were even worthy of having an immortal's essence flowing through her veins. Dragons are the only creatures deserving of Bhaal's taint!"

"Do you think Bhaal would agree with that? He was a human before He became a god," I said. "Get your facts straight." His thin lips pulled back in a snarl, showing some really long sharp teeth.

"The Lord of Murder shall rise again. I shall prove myself worthy to Abazigal by bathing in your tainted blood!"

The man beside him transformed into a large wyvern and took to the air. I'd seen werewolves many times but a were-wyvern was new to me. Behind Draconis, several fire salamanders slithered out of the shadows, halberds ready. Behind them lumbered a group of the smaller variety of earth elementals. Draconis disappeared.

Keldorn called upon Torm to reveal the hidden but by the time Draconis was visible again I saw the telltale shimmer of protective magic. Great, he was a mage too.

Imoen had her own stoneskin up so I yelled for her to dispel his protections. One of the salamanders got between me and Draconis, so I attacked it. I could hear Anomen somewhere behind me calling upon Helm to bless us. There was a roar of flames and a burst of heat at my back that told me that Jaheira had transformed into her fire elemental shape.

I hacked off a fatal amount of the salamander's head and moved on to Draconis. My blows seemed to have little effect but any moment now, Imoen would breach his protections. I hoped. He fought unarmed, like the monks beside me, but with claws instead of fists. His claws could not penetrate my armor.

A blast of air and a stunning blow sent me flying past Draconis. It was the were-wyvern, behind me. I rolled to protect my face. I landed on my shoulder and threw up enough sand to half blind myself. The wyvern's claws scraped across my back. I rolled over and brought up my sword. I hacked into one of his huge clawed feet. It was a weak blow but my sword was very sharp. Blood spurted. The wyvern jumped back a step and its tail flicked towards me, very fast. The stinger slammed into my chest like a spear. My breath whooshed out. I didn't think it had penetrated my armor but it didn't much matter. I was immune to poison.

I rolled to my feet this time and jammed my sword up through the softer scales under the wyvern's closest wing. He hissed in agony and tried to knock me down with the wing, but I dodged it. I had weakened the wing so he couldn't fly, I hoped. His great beaked head snapped at me. I did my best to take out his eye. My sword bounced off his thick armored brow but I had expected this. As the wyvern blinked and jerked back his head slightly, I whipped my sword around and cut even deeper into the wound under his wing. The wyvern hissed and tried to move back. I lunged forward and drove my sword into his vitals. The sword was almost jerked out of my hand when the wyvern turned back into his human form and dropped dead onto the bloody sand.

"Ekim!" Draconis screamed. Presumably that was the were-wyvern's name. "I am going to tear you apart for that." His voice rose to a wordless scream and suddenly the man was gone and we faced a brown dragon.

He reared back his head and his maw opened wide. I'd seen that move when we fought Firkraag, the red dragon in Amn. I dove to the ground but he didn't breathe fire. He spit acid. The main blast missed me but the back of my armor was hit. Acid seeped through the joints and it burned like lava. I screamed, afraid to open my eyes for fear of burning them as well. I felt more than heard the thud of running feet and then someone grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

"Get moving," Sarevok shouted in my ear and he practically flung me behind him. He turned to face Draconis while the dragon fended off Jaheira's fiery embrace. I saw Anomen race towards me and I staggered in his direction. The pain increased as more acid ran along the inside of my armor and soaked into my padded coat.

"I've got to get this off you," he said and moved as if to unbuckle my cuirass. I couldn't believe it. What was the bigger priority, slaying the dragon or dealing with my wounds? I struck his hand away.

"Later!" I said. "Smite him or something." I chugged down a healing potion to knock back the pain.

Draconis slammed his wings. Sarevok flew back but Jaheira's huge elemental form just staggered a bit. Imoen must have breached his protections because I could hear his scaled flesh sizzle. I didn't see any of the monks and didn't know if they were slain, hiding or had fled the scene. Not that I would blame them particularly—I wouldn't take on a dragon bare handed either.

Imoen had her bow in her hand but she also shouted a spell at Draconis. I heard another woman casting and realized that Libet must still be with us. The dragon twisted his head to keep out of Jaheira's reach and then he whipped his tail around and struck her hard enough to knock her backwards. His evil eyes spotted me and I tightened my grip on my sword. Draconis leapt towards me and again reared back his head. Again I dived to the ground. But this time, his move was a feint. He did not breathe acid. One huge claw closed around my back and then he launched himself into the air.

_Nine Hells, this is bad_. I had lost my grip on my sword but it didn't really matter. There is a reason adventurers tackle dragons in their lairs. I had never fought a dragon out in the open but I knew exactly what he was going to do. Growing up on the coast, I'd seen sea eagles pick up turtles, drop them on the rocks. Splat. He held me face down in such a tight grip that I could hardly breathe, much less attack or even hold on. About all I could do was watch my companions do what they could. I was terrified beyond thought or regret.

Keldorn and Sarevok had drawn their crossbows and I heard at least one bolt hit the dragon. Imoen summoned a wyvern. _Good thinking, sister_. It shot straight towards us and then circled out of my sight. Draconis swooped into a tight turn. Luckily I didn't throw up or soil myself. There was a great shock when the wyvern rammed us. Draconis tightened his grip around my ribs. I felt my back plate, already weakened by the acid, split from the strain. My ribs weren't feeling too great either.

We rolled in the air and when Draconis straightened he had the wyvern caught in his other great claw. We plummeted for a few seconds while the dragon bent his head and closed his jaws over the wyvern's spine. The wyvern struggled ferociously and managed to whip its stinger into the dragon's side before its back broke. I had no idea if the stinger actually penetrated the dragon's scales. With some fascination, I watched the dead wyvern drop to the ground. Its wings made it spiral down like a maple key drifting in a spring breeze. I guessed that my fall would be more like an egg.

Draconis flapped his wings and we began to rise again. A couple more bolts struck him. It may have been my imagination, but I got the impression that he was now laboring under my weight. Maybe his wounds were catching up with him. _Die, wyrm_.

When I saw the angel flying towards me, I thought at first it was the Solar, come to carry me off to my afterlife or maybe admonish me for failing to stop the prophecy. Then I saw the mace in his hand. Anomen had called a deva. The dragon saw him too. His grip loosed a little, just a little, but I was able to twist just a tad.

The dragon's grip pinned my morning star to my side but I was able to reach my dagger. I started sawing away at the toe that corresponded to his thumb. My dagger was heavily enchanted and in a few moments, I had chewed through the scales and started spilling blood. Concentrating on this task distracted me from Draconis' aerial acrobatics as he closed with the deva. I did my best to ignore the sickening way the earth and the sun moved in dizzying circles. I worked on making Draconis bleed. When the deva killed him, I didn't want to be trapped in his grip.

We were closer to the ground. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The height still looked lethal. I couldn't see the deva at all but I could hear the thuds of his mace and I could feel the faltering of the dragon's wings.

"No!" Draconis cried, speaking for the first time since he had assumed his dragon form. "Father, help me!"

Then he let me go.

I fell.

I fell and the ground rushed towards me. I twisted my head and saw the dragon falling beside me. And I saw the deva, wings tucked in so he could dive like a hawk after a rabbit.

Strong arms caught me. Wings flapped.

"I sure am glad to see you," I said. He smiled at me. He was bigger than Sarevok and he held me like I'd hold a big lanky child. I put my arms around his neck. Not that I thought he would drop me or anything, but still. Below us, Draconis hit the ground with a really loud crash.

"Is he dead?" I asked.

"The dragon is dead," the deva said.

"Was he a Bhaalspawn?" I asked the deva. I couldn't sense any essence released but maybe I wasn't close enough to tell. And I hadn't been the one to kill him, maybe that made a difference as well. "Did he inherit Abazigal's taint?"

"Do you think he was?"

"You can't tell me, can you? Why don't you just say you can't tell me instead of answering a question with a question?"

The deva smiled. We flew over the pit and he dropped me near Anomen's feet. Wide eyes and open mouths all around. That's pretty much the way I felt too. A few of the monks had survived, including Libet. I felt half dead but I pushed myself to my knees. I was pretty sure I wouldn't make it to my feet just yet. I cast an uneasy eye towards the pit. Draconis had called for help and I was half expecting another dragon to come roaring out. Where was his father? Did he know his son had just died? Did we want to fight another dragon out here in the open?

"Anyone hurt?" I asked. I was just full of questions. Sarevok's face was about as gray as I had ever seen it. "Your deva is my hero," I told Anomen. "I'm going to say a prayer to Helm tonight." A lot of prayers.

My last words came out as more of a whisper. I felt very sick, and couldn't decide if I was going to faint or vomit, or both.

"She's covered in acid," Anomen said. He and Sarevok each took a side and stripped me out of my armor. We were right out in the open but they didn't listen to my weak protests. I'd almost forgotten my arming coat was soaked in acid until they peeled it off of me. Then I screamed. The men stripped me out of everything, even my boots, and then the deva took me by the hands and healed me. He gave me a kiss on the forehead and then he just disappeared. Pop, like a soap bubble.

It was nice to have all my skin again. I was definitely going to pray to Helm tonight.

Anomen, who had one of just about everything in his pack, had a spare tunic and pair of pants, so I didn't have to run around naked.

"Did you find my sword?" I asked Sarevok. He jerked his head and I saw that he had laid it next to my pack. He hadn't spoken a word to me since Draconis had taken me.

"Thanks," I said and I moved closer to him. "This time it wasn't my fault." He let out a big shuddering sigh.

"I almost think it is easier for me when you do something foolish," he said and then I walked into his arms.


	40. Pride and Selfishness

**Ch. 40…Pride and Selfishness**

"I think we now know what happened to your first group of monks," I told Libet. The group of us had retreated out of sight of the entrance to the enclave. I still felt very exposed. I watched the sky constantly. Libet gave me a tight, controlled look. Only three other monks had survived the battle with Draconis.

"Yes," she said. There was no emotion in her voice. "He killed them all. Do you plan to slay Abazigal?"

"I do."

"Good." She was silent for a moment. "I must send the others back to warn Balthazar of what has occurred. However, I will remain with you, if you permit. Abazigal has many defenses but most of them can be bypassed, if one knows the way."

I looked first at Keldorn and then at Sarevok. They both nodded in approval.

"I would be grateful for your help," I said.

"The obligation is mine."

We decided to set up camp and tackle the enclave after everyone had rested and healed. I told Libet I had a hidden cache of supplies so I could re-armor myself. I was getting better at telling the truth in misleading ways. Sarevok and I walked out of sight of the campsite and then I teleported the two of us to the pocket plane.

When I showed Cespenar the pile of rubbish that used to be my best set of armor, I thought he would burst into tears. That pretty much summed up my own feelings but I was a big girl now and did not cry over armor. Luckily I had a stained old arming coat in my room that I hadn't gotten around to throwing out. It dated back to Baldur's Gate and the points were ratty but it would serve. I asked Cespenar to furbish it up with some decent chain gussets and to dig out my second-best set of plate. Too bad there wasn't time to make a new cuirass from Draconis' scales. Ha ha.

"Are you in any hurry to return to the others?" Sarevok asked. I smiled a little. From the look in his eyes, I was pretty sure he knew what I wanted and here we had the privacy required.

"Yes," I teased. "I want to help set up camp, maybe dig a privy. But darn it, my gear isn't ready. Whatever shall we find to do while we wait? Maybe you'd like to go read for awhile. I can go work with Cespenar to fix my coat."

"Help me out of this armor, wench." My hands were already busy with the buckles. Once he was released from his metal prison, I plastered myself to him. It was good that the deva had healed my sore ribs or his hug would have hurt.

We ended up taking a bath first because even though I had new skin, I still felt filthy from the acid. As I toweled dry, I tried to twist around and look at my back but I just couldn't see much.

"Does it look okay?"

"Even your scars are gone," Sarevok said. His voice wasn't as happy as I might have expected. Now my back was a clean slate again, ready for a new crop of backstabbers to leave their marks.

"I guess it must have looked pretty bad before the deva fixed it," I said. Sarevok made no reply. I followed him to his bedroom, wary of his brooding look.

"Draconis ignored all of us and came straight for you," he said. I sat beside him on the bed.

"You sound surprised." He didn't actually sound surprised. He sounded angry and upset.

"There was nothing I could do. I could not protect you. If not for Anomen's quick thinking, you would have fallen and died."

"What's the point in talking about it? Draconis is dead and I am alive."

I put my arm around his shoulder and nuzzled up against him. He frowned at me. "Until the Bhaalspawn are destroyed, you are in terrible danger, Keeta."

"We all are. You say that like it is news." All the more reason to celebrate being alive. I slid my hand inside his robe. He shook his head at me a little and his frown deepened.

"Do not be disingenuous, you know what I mean. The situation has changed. Draconis specifically targeted you. Abazigal will undoubtedly do the same. I wish you to stay out of the battle with him. He is too powerful for you to stand against alone."

"You're probably right but I won't be alone, will I?"

"I want you out of it."

I just stared. He wanted me to stay out of the battle? He thought I would hide somewhere safe and let others fight for me? Against Abazigal, who was undoubtedly more formidable than his son? Had he lost his mind?

He untied my robe and pushed it off my shoulders. Finally! I slid my arms out of the sleeves and he caressed the smooth new skin on my back. Although our craving to constantly touch each other had diminished greatly from the first days of Sarevok's resurrection, desire was still easily transmitted between us.

"You know I can't do that, Sarevok." I moved back on the bed, turning on my side to watch as he took off his own robe and let it fall to the floor. He lay down beside me. He knew what I wanted. Why were we still talking?

"Draconis almost killed you today. You did not damage him at all."

"I'll try to do better next time."

I ran my hand over his muscled thigh, as much to distract myself as him because I was starting to get a little irritated. Maybe I didn't do anything great and effective against Draconis today, but I survived, didn't I? I bought the others some time. Wasn't that the point of us working together?

"This is not a criticism, Keeta."

"I guess you better warn me before you _do_ criticize me so I can brace myself."

"You made no error yet you still almost died. I beg you, stay out of the fight with Abazigal."

"You've never fought a dragon before," I said, suddenly realizing that Draconis must have been his first. It would be no surprise if he were feeling a bit overwhelmed. "They are truly terrifying, Sarevok. It's not just a legend."

"I am a Deathbringer, Keeta."

"Okay, fine, you're a Deathbringer, you know all about fear. I wasn't accusing you of being afraid. I'm just saying you might be overreacting to what happened today."

"Afraid? Of course I was afraid. I've never been more afraid in my life than in the moment I saw him take to the air with you in his claws. I am not overreacting."

He pulled me to him and rolled onto me. There was no gentleness in his kiss or in his hands upon me. I arched my back and cried out under his assault upon my senses.

"You will obey me in this," he said in my ear. "I will not lose you to death." I was beyond words as I opened to him. He was not a man to show his emotions but they were there and they burned across me like dragon's fire. _Oh gods, oh gods!_

Afterwards, I snuggled in beside him. He stroked my hair.

"I have your word then? You agree to stay out of the battle with Abazigal?" I slid my arm around his waist.

"I already said I wouldn't agree." His hand tightened in my hair. I looked at his face in some surprise. "You are still serious about that?" Dear gods, the persistence! "Really, Sarevok, I thought you knew me better."

"You relish these fights." His voice was an accusation.

"I am a warrior. It's all I know."

"It's more than that. You used to sorrow over all the death, all the killing. You do so no longer. These battles are pleasurable to you."

"Well—yes. I guess so." I wasn't sure that 'pleasurable' was the correct word. Exciting and satisfying might come closer. "I thought you of all people would understand that."

"I do understand it." He sounded angry rather than understanding.

"I just don't feel that bad about killing people anymore when they're trying to kill me first. I've done all the crying I'm going to do for those who bring their deaths upon themselves. I didn't ask for this life but it's the one I've been given, and the fighting—well, it's the only thing I'm good at. Do you expect me to stand aside and do nothing? Let you and the others take all the risk? What would you say if I asked the same of you?"

"I am not Abazigal's target and I am not pregnant."

"Stop it with the pregnant talk! You are not making this decision."

His expression hardened. I pulled away a bit. I stared after him as he rolled out of bed. He went to his dresser and pulled out some clothes.

"Just like that, you want to leave?" I asked. I had just been feeling so warm and comfortable and, well, satisfied. A cuddle and a nap would have been perfect. Now I was cranky and offended.

"What, you think all you have to do is to lie with me and I'll agree to anything you ask?" He made no reply. "If you have suggestions for how I can fight better or protect myself better, then great, I'll listen. But don't just tell me to stay out of the fight and expect me to obey you because I won't."

He dressed quickly without answering or even turning to look at me.

"It's my fight, Sarevok." He _still_ didn't look at me. "You have nothing to say?" I asked.

"Anything I say now will only make matters worse."

"Because you know I'm right. I did not think to see a Deathbringer sulking like a child," I said angrily. He looked at me then.

"I did not think to see you endanger us all with your pride and your selfishness."

My brows drew down. _My_ pride? _My_ selfishness? It was almost funny to hear these words from _his_ mouth and I started to blast him for them, but my throat suddenly tightened up. I was close to tears. I snatched up my robe and fled to my bedroom.

I threw on some clothes, ready to sweep out the portal and tackle Abazigal immediately, but there was a snag. My arming coat wasn't ready yet. I couldn't wear my plate armor without it and I wasn't going up against a dragon in anything lighter. I left Cespenar to his work and assessed my armor situation. Other than the cuirass, which had been destroyed, the rest of the armor set, although pitted and tarnished by the acid, seemed usable. So I trudged back to my room to rummage for my second best set of plates.

Sarevok had already put on his leg armor when I dropped the plates next to my pile. Cespenar hadn't had time to clean my armor or my weapons, and the front and back plates didn't match the rest of the set. My lips turned down. It looked like crap. Anomen was going to have a big laugh.

"What is the delay?" Sarevok asked impatiently. I started buckling him into the rest of his armor.

"Cespenar hasn't finished reinforcing my arming coat," I said. "Despite my overweening pride and selfishness, I don't care to tackle a dragon without my armor." Sarevok gave me a look. About the time I got him in his gear, Cespenar came out with my arming coat.

"I don't suppose you have a nice stylish surcoat I can wear over this mess?" I asked him. Cespenar's little face lit up and he went twittering off.

"Oh, now what? I wasn't serious," I told Sarevok. "I had to open my mouth. I hope he doesn't shame me into wearing something that makes me look like a knight on parade duty."

Cespenar happily brought out a surcoat, rolled up like a small tapestry. The material was rich and heavy, the color a severe black lightened with flecks of gold thread woven into the material. It was certainly long enough to cover up my mismatched dirty armor. I unrolled it with foreboding and then burst out laughing. Cespenar gave me a hurt look.

Bhaal's skull symbol was embroidered in gold thread across the front. The skull's eyes were red as flame and tiny gemstones had been added to make them glitter. The drops of blood orbiting the skull were also picked out in rubies or garnets. (To Imoen's dismay, I could never tell the difference between the two.)

"I'm sorry, Cespenar." I tried to stifle my laughter and ended up snorting through my nose. "But can you imagine Keldorn's and Anomen's faces if I actually wore this into battle?" They wouldn't be amused. Sarevok didn't look particularly amused either.

"You might as well paint a target on your chest." His sour look was almost enough to make me decide to wear it after all. It would probably drive me crazy to have the coat flapping around my knees though. I wondered if a surcoat could be enchanted with protections like wizards' robes.

"I'm sorry, Cespenar," I said. "This is, um, very fine but I'll be fighting a dragon and don't want to ruin it. Would you put it in my room for later?" I couldn't wait for Imoen to see it.

"What sort of dragon?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. I should have asked Libet. "Draconis was a brown so does that mean Abazigal is a brown as well?" I asked Sarevok. He gave me an irritated look that told me he didn't know either.

"Abazigal?" Cespenar said. "Oh, no, not a brown, he's a blue. His mate was a brown but he murdered her when Draconis was young."

He killed his own mate? Nice fellow. The more I learned about my siblings, the happier I was that I was killing most of them. Sarevok's face went still and I remembered that his foster father had killed his wife in front of him when he was a lad.

"You know Abazigal?" I asked.

"Cespenar knows Abazigal, oh yes. He is Bhaal's first born."

"What can you tell me about blue dragons? I've never fought one."

"Magic bounces off him. He fights with lightning. He has a very mean temper. Takes after Bhaal that way, I'm thinking. He kicked me once for no reason. Well, only a little tiny reason." I handed him the surcoat.

"When you put this away, would you fetch me my Boots of Grounding? They're under the bed. I've got a couple of helmets that protect against electricity. See if you can find them."

"Yes, master, right away." I gave Sarevok a smug look.

"Are you going to help me with this armor, or do I need to ask Cespenar to be my squire?" He buckled me in with a lot of unnecessary jerking and pushing but at least it was done.

Libet gave us a rather dubious look when we came back to camp. I guess she hadn't totally bought my cache story after all but she made no comment.

"I have scried the enclave. Abazigal must be in his sanctum deep beneath the earth. He has called his kuo-toa warriors from the depths to guard the entrance, but as creatures of the Underdark, I doubt very much that they will venture out in the daylight. Nevertheless I have warded this area and it should be safe to rest here a few hours so that your companions can prepare their spells."

"Thanks, Libet," I said.

"I will go prepare my own spells as well. My companions will help you guard the camp until we are ready to proceed."

"Fine."

We waited. In the relative shade and privacy of the monks' tents, Anomen, Jaheira, Imoen and Libet made their preparations. Imoen and Libet sat cross legged on the ground with their spell books on their knees. Wizards. Something about their coziness together made me mildly uneasy. Imoen had been avoiding me so it was good she had someone to talk to. I still felt uneasy though. I could think of things I'd rather be doing than sitting on a hot rock in full plate armor under the late afternoon sun. Being curled up in a cool comfortable bed (without being fussed at) came to mind but I didn't have the heart to provoke Sarevok any further.

Keldorn had found a patch of shade behind a big rock, so I joined him. The monks huddled together on the far side of the camp. They not only avoided my presence, they even avoided making eye contact with me. I wondered what exactly they thought I was likely to do to them.

"What do you think they're up to?" I asked, looking in their direction.

"Balthazar's men? They have been spying upon Abazigal. They fear him." He looked at me under heavy brows. "They fear you as well." I thought about that a moment.

"Do you think they have been spying on us too?" He nodded.

"They know much of what happened at Sendai's enclave, much more than any of us have told. They also seem to know much of the fate of Saradush. Libet appears to be a most talented scrier and she is not the only mage in Balthazar's employ."

I had noticed many times that people told Keldorn things. He was so honest and compassionate that people opened up to him and spilled their guts. It was useful, but of course, it wasn't a tool to him. It was just the way he was.

I thought some more. Sarevok had drifted over to us and had overheard much of Keldorn's conversation.

"Balthazar could have been a lot more helpful. He did give us maps, but Melissan pretty much pushed him into that, I think. He could have told us more about both Sendai and Abazigal and we would have been much better prepared. Why didn't he?"

"Perhaps he doubted your motives," Keldorn said gently.

"But if he knows about Saradush, he should know how hard we tried to save the town! How can he doubt my motives?"

Keldorn gave me one of his 'search your conscience' looks but all he said was, "I do not know his mind. He appears to wish to stand back from this conflict."

Sarevok and Keldorn exchanged a look and I got the impression they found my presence unnecessary at the moment. I found another patch of shade some distance away so I could clean and sharpen my sword. I knew Sarevok hated the sound of the file and the stone. The two men stopped talking when I came to fetch Sarevok's sword. Cespenar had not had time to tend to it and I knew how Sarevok loathed taking care of his gear. Besides, I needed something to do. I hate waiting.

The men stopped talking again when I brought the sword back, ready to use. _Fine, keep your secrets_, I thought. The sun was setting so I leaned against a rock and took a short nap in my armor. I could have had a much better nap in the pocket plane but no, Sarevok had to get all protective and strange.

Anomen shook me awake. I blinked and took a long stretch.

"Is everyone ready?" I asked, still feeling groggy. Maybe the nap hadn't been such a great idea. He nodded.

Libet was right about the kuo-toans. They guarded the entrance and there were plenty of them, too. They hid in the shadows and peppered us with their crossbows, then melted away into the dark cavern as we tried to close with them. Libet grabbed my arm.

"Do not chase them," she said. "They will lead you into an ambush. You must keep the group together and let me guide you."

"Fine," I said, but it didn't feel fine. She was a stranger, after all, and in service to Balthazar, a man who had confused and even frightened me a little. Still, Imoen seemed to like her and Keldorn seemed to trust her and I trusted his judgment over my own.

So instead of chasing kuo-toans down wide passageways, we turned off into a dark, narrow tunnel that sloped steeply down. The walls and the floor were slick with moisture. I could barely keep my footing in my heavy clunky Boots of Grounding.

"Why are you wearing those awful boots?" Imoen asked as I skidded past her. She caught my arm before I landed on my rear.

"Abazigal is a blue dragon and has a lightning attack."

"How do you know that?" she asked. I saw Libet looking at me, so I didn't mention Cespenar.

"I hear things. I'm not as dumb as I look," I said. She raised her brows in exaggerated surprise.

"I didn't think you could be," she muttered.

"Yes, you are well informed, he is a blue dragon," Libet said. "Imoen, you and I will need to concentrate on dispelling his protections and summoning creatures to attack and distract him. He is likely to resist any direct magical attacks."

After a while, the tunnel started to level off. It remained very damp and there was a strange rotten smell.

"Sulfur," Jaheira said.

"Yes, sulfur from the hot springs up ahead," Libet said. She gestured for us to gather around her and listen. "This tunnel leads to a great open cavern, dotted with pools of foul smelling water. The gates to Abazigal's inner sanctum lie past this cavern through a hidden passage that I will show you. The kuo-toans will likely stand against us in the cavern and try to prevent us from reaching the gates. Also—" She frowned.

"What?" Somehow I knew the news was getting worse.

"There will be water elementals in the pools. They are large and formidable. They will try to drag you into the water and drown you there. Some of these pools are very deep, so avoid the water at all costs. I suggest we move through this area as quickly as possible. In fact, it might be best if we cloak ourselves in invisibility and avoid conflict altogether. There is no need to slaughter every creature here." She gave me a hard look.

"Is the gate guarded?" I asked. I was a little annoyed at being constantly singled out as the bloodthirsty member of the group. Not to mention the fact that leaving a huge cavern full of enemies at our rear seemed a poor strategy. If we had to leave in a hurry, the pocket plane would be our only choice and if I were incapacitated and couldn't use the portal key—well. That would be bad.

"Yes, the gate is guarded," she said. "Allow me to speak to the guardian, Fll'Yissetat. There is no need to attack her." Again she looked at me. Maybe I should have worn Bhaal's surcoat after all since I was obviously marked as a proud, selfish, and bloodthirsty Bhaalspawn.

"And who is this Fll'Yissetat? Is she an ally of yours?"

"She is not an ally but a slave under a geas. Once I release her from the spell, I believe she will let us pass. Perhaps she will even aid us against Abazigal."

"You sound uncertain," Sarevok noted.

"Yes, well—she can be difficult. I believe I can persuade her, however. She certainly has no love for Abazigal, especially after he killed his own mate. She was kin, I believe."

I had a bad feeling but I had to ask.

"And Fll'Yissetat is a—what?"

"She is a green dragon."

Great.

"Okay, I'm missing something here," I said. "You want us to sneak past about a hundred kuo-toans and who knows how many huge water elementals."

"I believe they are elders," Libet murmured.

"Then we will face a dragon who may or may not be hostile. If she is hostile, we will find ourselves caught between two enemies. And even if she is friendly, we'll still have a lot of enemies covering our line of retreat."

"The kuo-toans will not approach Fll'Yissetat for they fear her too much. We will be out of the range of the elementals. They are tied to their pools." She didn't sound quite certain of that last part but I let it pass.

"And then what?"

"Then we face Abazigal in his inner sanctum."

"What guards or defenses does he have?"

"I do not know. He has warded it against my scrying."

I looked at the others. None of them were raising objections. None of them were shouting that this was a bad plan, although it was. None of them seemed as uncomfortable as I felt. I shrugged.

"Fine. Let's do it."


	41. A Revelation of Sorts

**Ch. 41…A Revelation of Sorts**

The attack on the enclave started out basically as Libet had outlined. Keldorn was not pleased at her stealthy approach but when she told him that the kuo-toans were slaves, he reluctantly agreed to it. They might be slaves but they were still evil and I had less than fond memories of their kin from my time in the Underdark. Still, if Keldorn was willing to let them live, I certainly wasn't going to quibble about it, despite my bloodthirsty and selfish desire to have a clear line of retreat.

I took off my bulky Boots of Grounding and stowed them in my pack since there was no way I could walk quietly in them. The stench of sulfur was sickeningly strong but the bubbling and belching of the murky pools helped cover some of the noise of our passage. Once invisible, we held hands to keep from losing each other. Libet led us. I was next and clasped Jaheira's chilly fingers. I knew that Sarevok covered the rear.

We snaked a slow path between pools. I had a nightmarish vision of being grabbed from behind by watery arms and dragged down into the dark depths. Drowning would probably be a painless death but it certainly was not one I would choose.

Working our way through the huge cavern seemed to take forever. We had to move slowly and silently, avoiding both pools and wandering groups of kuo-toans. The cavern was dark, but Libet had cast a spell of infravision on us. She was proving to be very useful. If Balthazar had been as helpful in the beginning as Libet was now, these attacks on the enclaves would have been much simpler.

Once out of the pool cavern, we traversed another long tunnel, which led, Libet said, to the gates that Fll'Yissetat guarded. She dispelled the invisibility and I put my boots back on.

"Please," Libet said. "Keep your weapons sheathed and let me talk to her. I am certain we can handle this peacefully."

I frowned and hoped she was right. And if she was wrong, I hoped she distracted the dragon long enough for us to prepare ourselves.

We stepped into another huge cavern and saw the green dragon crouched before massive iron gates. She stood unnaturally still and I might have taken her for a statue or even some sort of construct if not for the glitter in her huge prismatic eyes. Only those eyes moved as she looked down at me. She opened her great jaws and I flinched, but instead of spitting out acid or flames, she spoke in an uninflected voice.

"You may not pass. You have the stench of the Bhaalspawn—the same stench as Abazigal, though he tries to hide it behind the more palatable scent of his wyrm-kind heritage."

Libet stepped forward. That took a lot of guts, I thought, for an unarmed mage with no spell protections cast.

"Fll'Yissetat," she said. "I have come to free you from your enslavement." The dragon's head came down and her eyes blinked.

"Little woman? Do you have—the power—to break Abazigal's spell?" The dragon labored to get the words out. The geas must be potent indeed to hold so mighty a creature in such check that even her speech was affected.

"I come from Balthazar and I do indeed have the power to break the geas placed upon you."

"Balthazar? I—see. What price—does your master set—on my freedom?"

"All we ask is that you allow us to pass without interference. Should you wish to stand with us against Abazigal, your aid would be appreciated, of course."

"I—agree. Free me. Kill—Abazigal."

Libet stepped forward and put her hand on the dragon's foreleg. The amount of trust (or foolhardiness) required made me shiver. The mage closed her eyes a moment and then her lips formed the words of the spell, but strangely, I could hear nothing. I looked over at Imoen to see if she could explain what was happening. She watched the other mage intently and I decided not to break her concentration. Perhaps this was a spell so secret and rare that Libet did not want to risk us learning it from her words. Mages. I did a mental headshake.

Then Libet stepped away and a tremor ran through the dragon. Her great eyes closed as if in pain and when they opened again, her expression was clear and sure but not quite as friendly as I would have expected.

"The enchantment is broken!" the dragon cried. "I am free from this accursed servitude to that half-breed! Free to leave this place and never return."

"You promised to open these gates," Libet said sternly.

"You are a fool, little woman, to bargain with a dragon," Fll'Yissetat said scornfully. I itched to draw my blade but Libet stood straight and confident before the dragon. I had trusted her so far so I stayed my hand.

"We care little for promises made to the likes of you," the dragon said. "But you are in luck. Abazigal must pay for what he has done but I am not eager to allow myself to fall victim to his snares once more. Therefore I will honor our agreement. I will open the gates before I leave this vile place. May you extract unholy vengeance on the mongrel half-breed's head!"

So much for a dragon's gratitude. She opened the gate and then headed towards the cavern of pools. With any luck she would destroy or at least scatter the kuo-toans before she left. Of course there was also the possibility that she would drive them back in our direction.

We passed through the gates and Libet warded the doorway behind us. Obviously she had the same thought I had. I gave her a look of approval.

"Abazigal's lair lies before us," she said. "I do not know what to expect. Now is the time to prepare ourselves for the dragon."

Sarevok frowned at me but at least he didn't ask me to stay out of the fight again. We checked each other's armor to make sure all was snug and secure while the others cast their protections. Then we all moved forward.

We stepped into a large glittering cavern. The cave had been excavated in such a way as to expose deposits of quartz and other crystals in the walls and in the stalactites and stalagmites. The light from various magical globes made sparkles and tiny rainbows on the floor and walls. It was like some pleasure grotto out of a bard's tale.

A man stepped forward. He was tall and hatchet faced. I could see a tracery of scales on his brow. His hands were clasped behind his back so I could not tell if he had claws or hands. He was not quite so bizarre looking as his son, but he definitely showed his wyrm blood. I moved toward him.

Fll'Yissetat had mentioned the stench of our Bhaalspawn heritage but I did not pick up a scent from Abazigal. It was not as an odor that I sensed his power. I felt him along my skin like hot knives. Sendai had affected me with instant aggression but Abazigal's presence actually made my lips pull back in a snarl. Sarevok laid his hand on my shoulder as if he thought he would have to restrain me. He may have been right. I wanted nothing more than to let that abomination feel my blade.

"Welcome, Keeta," Abazigal said. His eyes bored into mine and I could see a reflection of the instant hatred I felt. "I have watched your progress with great interest. For a lesser creature, you are quite amusing."

I didn't trust myself to answer in kind. His eyes flicked to Libet and they widened in the simulation of surprise.

"I see you travel with one of Balthazar's lackeys. Has the time of betrayal come so soon?"

"You killed my brothers with no provocation," the mage said. "It is you who are the betrayer, Abazigal."

"No provocation? I merely killed those who had the effrontery to spy upon my enclave," the half-dragon said scornfully. "Do you dare tell me your master would have behaved any differently? How long has it been since any but his minions have entered the sealed gates of the monastery? Balthazar keeps his own secrets but he would have mine also. I think not, little mage." He turned back to me.

"I am the first. I am Bhaal's true child, yet you have the impudence to aspire to my position?" His face seemed built for sneering. "You are not worthy of having Bhaal's blood in you. Only a dragon is worthy of containing the Lord of Murder's immortal essence!"

"I wonder what Bhaal would say to that, fool," I said. He was blessedly silent in my head, thank the gods. "You sound just like your son. He's dead now."

"If such as you could slay him, he was weak and deserved to die," Abazigal said. My brows rose. Maybe he wouldn't have been shocked after all if I had come in wearing his son's scales as a cuirass. Maybe he would have approved. "There will be other sons for me but for you there will only be death."

"Sendai called you a proud old fool just before she met her unfortunate end. Now I see why." I gave him a little smile.

"Those insolent words shall be your last!"

He raised one hand and a group of frost salamanders ran forward, spears ready. The thing about fighting salamanders is you not only have to worry about their weapon, but their tail as well. They like to engage you and then use their tail to sweep your legs out beneath you. They'll also drop their weapons and come at you with their claws if they get under your guard. Since I fight with a great sword, I like to keep my distance and dance around them until I get a clear stroke. I noticed Sarevok took more of a brute force approach. He gave his opponent a mighty blow that sheared through its spear and one of the arms that held it. The salamander reeled back and he stepped in and took its head as well. I felt a little spurt of envy. I was pretty strong but not _that_ strong.

Jaheira roared into her fire elemental shape and the remaining frost salamanders flinched away in fear. I left them to her and advanced upon Abazigal, my nostrils flaring with anticipation. Keldorn got there before me and struck him with the Holy Avenger. The half-dragon cried out in pain and surprise. The mages must have stripped his protections already. I cut at his knees and he fell to the ground. His cry became a roar and then he started to change to his dragon form.

Keldorn and I backed up in a hurry but I still got caught in the wind from Abazigal's wings and skidded backwards on my rear. A summoned wyvern swooped in over my head and flew into the dragon's face. First one, and then a second magical sword went floating by me to attack the blue dragon's underside. I jumped to my feet and was jerked back by a hand on my shoulder.

I almost turned my blade on him before I realized it was Sarevok.

"Wait," he shouted. I tried to pull loose but he wouldn't let go.

"Why?" I shouted back.

"Let the mages take him down."

"Are you crazy?!" He must have been, because instead of turning me loose, he hauled me backwards, away from the dragon. Imoen's amazing disembodied dragon's head materialized and breathed fire over Abazigal. He screamed and slammed his wings about. One blow knocked the wyvern into the cavern ceiling and it dropped dead to the floor, squashed like a fly. The swords continued to harass him however and now Anomen's deva soared into the fray. I couldn't tell if he was the same one who had saved me from Draconis. I'd have to ask Anomen sometime—did random devas come to his call or was he assigned one by Helm?

Then lightning flashed out from the dragon's maw. I was still scuffling with Sarevok and the bolt aimed for me hit him as well. It struck me like a hammer then bounced all around the room in a blinding storm. I heard several cries of pain but I wasn't sure who all had been hit. I felt numb for a few moments but wasn't really hurt bad, thanks to the protection of my boots and my helm. Sarevok, however, fell to the ground.

Blood trickled out of his nose and spattered his face like it had been blown out of his skin. I didn't think he was breathing.

"Damn you, Sarevok, get up," I said. A big part of me wanted, no, _needed_ to go after Abazigal but not until Sarevok was back on his feet. He didn't get up. He didn't do anything but lay there. He rolled limply when I shook him. Jaheira was still in her elemental form and couldn't help.

"Anomen!" I yelled. But he didn't hear me. He was talking to Helm. He threw back his head and shouted. Suddenly sheets of fire came from nowhere, engulfing Abazigal. The dragon screamed and tried to escape the flames but a fiery hail of lava pelted down upon him. At any other time I would have been awestruck by this astonishing display of Helm's favor. Anomen stood like a statue, eyes closed, frozen in ecstasy. I could have struck him.

"No, it cannot be!" Abazigal cried as he writhed in agony, his wings aflame. "I cannot be killed by these pathetic fools! Know this as I die, that you have been used and misled."

And then the dragon's divine essence was ripped from him and Sarevok and I were hurled back to the pocket plane. _Not now, not now, Not Now!_ Sarevok lay as still as death. I thought I was going to go into a frenzy.

"Send us back!" I screamed at the Solar. "He needs a healer now!"

"Your soul twin is not dead or he would not have been sent here with you," the Solar said calmly.

"He isn't breathing! He will die if he doesn't get help. Send us back _now_."

"I cannot," she said.

I took a step towards her and slowly raised my sword.

"I think you can," I said between gritted teeth. She ignored my weapon and crouched beside Sarevok. "Send him back or heal him."

"I cannot heal him. I cannot interfere," she said and her voice was still so calm that my blood boiled. Her hand closed around my wrist. She did not squeeze or twist but I found myself dropping my sword nonetheless. She pulled me down so that my hand rested over Sarevok's heart and then she pushed. My open hand pressed hard against his breast plate. When the Solar released me, Sarevok gasped for breath. He was breathing again. He was actually breathing again.

The Solar stepped away.

Sarevok coughed and gasped some more and eventually the gray color receded from his lips. He blinked but his eyes were vague when he finally opened them. He mumbled something incoherent.

I took off his helm and knelt beside him so that I could raise his head against my knee. I popped the seal on one of my strongest healing potions and dribbled a little into his mouth.

"Drink this," I said. He didn't seem conscious enough to help so I stroked his throat to encourage him to swallow. He coughed some of the potion up but he got some down as well. I loosened up his armor as best I could to check for wounds. Lightning can do funny things to a person, especially one in metallic armor. I found burn marks on his left arm and I noticed a little blood coming out of one of his ears as well. I couldn't get his armor off him by myself, not while he was lying on the floor, and there was no telling what kind of internal injuries he might have. I needed Anomen.

The Solar stood patiently nearby while I did what I could. I finally got most of the potion down his throat and the little wounds on his face closed up.

"This is your own damned fault," I muttered to him. "Don't you _ever_ try to keep me out of a battle again, you hear me? Look what comes of it."

He blinked again and this time when he looked about, there was recognition on his face.

"Abazigal is dead?" he asked once he realized we were in the pocket plane.

"Yes, he is and no thanks to you. You stepped right into a lightning bolt, you oaf. Anomen killed him for us."

"I thought he might." For some reason, that made me even angrier. He looked about and saw the Solar. He struggled to sit up and I gave him a hand although I thought about giving him a shove. He sat there a moment, his face still rather pale, and then he motioned me to help him stand. He swayed on his feet. I put my arm around his waist to steady him.

"I hope you feel like crap," I whispered. His lips turned up a little at my loving words. He draped his arm over my shoulder. We faced the Solar.

"You near the final stage of your destiny," she said. "All will become most complicated very soon."

Great. As if it wasn't already.

"The sooner we can get this over with, the better," I said.

"We shall see," she said. "You have fought against brother and sister in recent days—fought and prevailed as they arrayed their forces against you. You have done well."

Sarevok's hand tightened on my shoulder as if he knew that sarcastic words hovered on my lips.

"The most powerful children of Bhaal gathered themselves together years ago," she continued. "They call themselves the Five. Together, they hoped their power would destroy all others of their kind. But what you may not know is why—what purpose your siblings have for their actions. Hear the truth from the lips of one you have murdered."

The air beside her sparkled and the form of Yaga-Shura suddenly loomed over us. My eyes involuntarily sought out my sword, still lying on the ground, but he was only an image or shade of some sort. The giant looked about him and there was bewilderment in his voice.

"Why am I called? Why is Yaga-Shura disturbed?"

"You shall explain the truth of your actions, spirit, to the one who killed you," the Solar said.

The giant looked down at me and frowned.

"Hmph. I don't owe nobody nothing!"

"You shall answer our questions of the Five," the Solar insisted.

"The Five, eh? Hmph. Yaga-Shura owes them, alright. Sure, I'll speak." He glanced at the Solar and then back to me.

"I was approached when I was still at the temple, still being taught the powers of Bhaal by the old witch. The greatest of all the Bhaalspawn were joining forces, I was told. We would defeat all others before us! Yaga-Shura didn't trust the others. Figured sooner or later the Bhaalspawn would turn on each other. Figured I was stronger than the rest of them, maybe, but not all of them together. So I joined. We raised an army of men and slaughtered all the Bhaalspawn we could, waiting for enough of the essence to collect in the Abyss."

"You wished for Bhaal, your father, to be resurrected as he had planned before his death," the Solar said. The giant nodded.

"And we would be his right hands, all five of us. That's what we were promised. We would live as demigods, ruling Faerûn with our power." He laughed. "It was worth taking a chance for, Yaga-Shura thinks!"

"So the Five sought to resurrect your father and become demigods," the Solar said. "What does this mean to you, god-child?" she asked me.

"They were fools to think Bhaal would share his power," Sarevok said.

And share it with _five_ right hands? Aside from the anatomical absurdity, did any of them even believe that would ever have happened? Or were they all just waiting for a chance to backstab the others?

"It's over now, anyway," I added. "Almost." Yaga-Shura laughed.

"Hah!" he said. "You are a fool to think the Five are defeated now. Of all of Bhaal's children, who do you think possessed the most of his essence? You, certainly, but we Five as well. How many of us have you killed? Me and Illasera. Probably Abazigal and Sendai as well. That is a lot of Bhaal's essence and still one of the Five remains. Who? Do you even know?" He gave me a challenging look but it was Sarevok who answered.

"Balthazar," he said.

"Yes, Balthazar," the giant said. "If anything, fool, you have stirred Bhaal in his slumber. He is closer now to awakening than ever before!" His laughter faded with him as his spirit disappeared.

"The last of the Five yet remains, god-child, and your father stirs. What will you do?"

"I can't let Balthazar raise Bhaal. If he has to die, so be it." Sigil was looking better and better. Maybe she would help us get there once Balthazar was dead. Surely that was within her power.

"Then continue on your path, god-child. I shall see you soon enough."


	42. A Private Matter

**Ch. 42…A Private Matter**

"You got between me and my dragon," I fussed. Sarevok still looked deathly ill and that made me madder than ever. "Are you crazy?"

"There was no need for you to rush in, fool."

"There was every need."

"There was every need for you to hinder the mages at their task? Use your brain, Keeta. I'm convinced you have one despite evidence to the contrary."

"Ahem," said a voice behind us. "I do so hope I do not intrude."

I whirled around. My sword still lay on the floor. Gods! I'd completely forgotten about the challenge rooms and now a slim unarmed figure padded toward us from one of them.

And how could I have been unaware of him? He shone with such power that the hairs on my arms and my neck rose in salute. Bhaal's vague presence within me suddenly snapped to attention. The stranger's eyes took in Sarevok then lingered on me.

"Greetings, Keeta of Candlekeep. It's time we spoke, you and I." He gave me a supercilious smile. I swayed in place, uncertain if I wanted to step forward or back. "I've been looking for an opportunity to speak to you without that Solar flapping about, ready to report every word I say. I do not suppose I can separate you from your twin here? I wish to speak on a private matter."

"No," Sarevok said. He had lost his sword too, I suddenly realized. The stranger shrugged.

"Now then, let's get trivial matters out of the way first. Do you know who I am?"

**The Dark Sun. The Prince of Lies. My murderer.**

"Cyric," I growled. Beside me, Sarevok stiffened. Cyric's avatar smiled again.

"Yes. I am Cyric. The reigning god of murder—a position I plan to hold onto, in case there was any slight uncertainty in your mind."

**Foul thief.**

"Read any good books lately?" I asked between gritted teeth. Cyric laughed but his eyes were not even slightly amused.

I quivered like a hunting dog on point. Even the Slayer within me seemed to recognize the futility of an attack here and now. He did not press me to fight but the desire to confront my—his—murderer was so strong that cold sweat broke out on my face.

"Yes, well, I've now recovered from that little bout of madness—not that it's important to you—only to find the seedlings of the former holder of my office everywhere, like weeds."

**Former…holder… **Bhaal's fury flared through me. _**I**_** am the rightful Lord of Murder.**

I moved a step closer towards Sarevok and gave him an urgent look. His gloved hand gripped my shoulder tightly. He knew what I needed. I trusted him to keep me in check.

"There's only a bare few of the spawn left, now, of course," he continued. "Like you. I'm not convinced you've the temperament or desire for the office of murder—but one can never be too sure. You can imagine my concern, hmm?"

"And so you are here," Sarevok said. "What do you want?"

"We're supposed to stay out of this, me and my so-called 'peers'." His creepy eyes bored into me. "But if Helm and Lathander get to sniff around I don't see why I can't. After all, this little contest affects me far more directly than it does them. I don't suppose you would care to tell me how there happens to be two of you?" he asked, gesturing at Sarevok. "Twinning yourself is a neat little trick."

"This is a private matter," I said, mimicking him. He shrugged and his eyes became even less friendly.

"And you're breeding as well? A son to carry on the family name—such as it is. And here I thought Bhaal's weeds were meant to be barren. Tsk tsk. Someone has been naughty." He laughed. I felt the blood drain out of my face. "Changing the rules at this late date? Why, I ask myself. I certainly hope you do not prove to be as prolific as your sire. But I don't suppose you'll live long enough to bear scores of offspring. No, that seems quite unlikely."

"Is that a threat?" I asked faintly.

"I am only here to talk. And to gauge your threat to me—if any."

"Planning to murder me if you find me a threat?"

Cyric actually grinned at me. "Ahh, if only things were so easy as that. But my hands are tied, so to speak. Ao, the Overfather, wishes this little climactic end for the Bhaalspawn to play itself out without interference from the rest of us." He gave an exaggerated sigh.

"And so I, the great Cyric, am restricted to watching and observing. And yet if there is anyone who should feel threatened by a child of the former Lord of Murder, it is me. There is simply no justice anymore."

"I've noticed," I said drily.

"I've been watching your progress for a while. Very impressive. I've formed a few conclusions, but let's hear it from the horse's mouth. How much should I fear you?"

**With all of your being.**

_Hush._

"I have no designs on becoming the God of Murder."

"I see. And what does your brother say? He is the ambitious one, yes? Or so it has been whispered." Cyric looked over my head with a knowing little smile. "Yes, Sarevok Anchev, I recognize you. I thought you were out of this game but I see I was misinformed." I twisted my head to look at Sarevok. His grip tightened on my shoulder.

"I have different aspirations now," Sarevok said.

Cyric looked at me. "Does he lie to me or to himself? Strangely difficult to tell, in this chaotic place. Could that possibly be the truth? The energies here—they are quite distracting." He gave another of his exaggerated sighs. "Who could have guessed that this level of the Abyss, this 'throne of Bhaal', would give me such problems? Hmm. If only I could have destroyed it to begin with."

"You had your chance to take it over when you murdered Bhaal," I said.

"I didn't want it. I have my own plane in Pandemonium, thank you very much—much better than anywhere in the Abyss. But obviously I should have paid more attention to this dismal place." He paced around us a few steps, his nose turned up as if he didn't care for the smell.

"But it's no matter," he continued. "Can't undo what's already been done. And if you try, well, that leads to all sorts of difficult problems. And I'd rather not open that bag of cats once again." He shook his head a bit and turned his gaze back upon me.

"As for you, hmm. I've had my look. I wish I could say I was satisfied with what I've seen." He took a step closer and his glow intensified. "Lies, betrayal, trickery—you would think this would please me but somehow it does not." I squinted against the increasing glare. "I warn you, mortals—pit yourselves against me at your peril." He was now so bright that I had to put my hand over my eyes. "Perhaps we shall meet again. For your sakes, I hope not." With an explosion of light, he was gone.

And then the power hit me.

A forever-long moment—I was aflame—a burning avatar of murder. The pocket plane faded around me. I could see through the walls, through the swirling chaos. I felt like I could walk through the walls if I chose. I could see my father's domain—the Throne of Blood—I could reach out my hands and touch it if I wished. This chaos was mine. I could mold it, pass through it or wear it like a cloak. I was so close, so close—and I had been here all along, just a thought away from the source of Bhaal's power. I could see his power flow in a mighty fountain. Almost ready. Almost ready. But not yet. There was a shadow that lay over the throne. Missing. Something missing.

Balthazar. Our next challenge would be Balthazar. Balthazar, with his calm, flensing eyes and his monastery said to be sealed against intruders. Balthazar, who had managed to conceal his Bhaalspawn nature from us all, even from Melissan, who had claimed to have much knowledge of our kind. Balthazar, who Keldorn said was not evil but who still sought to bring Bhaal to life. Was there any possible way we could come to a truce? Was there any possible way we could avoid a fight to the death?

**No, daughter. He must die.**

"He must die," I whispered.

And then I came back to myself.

Sarevok gave me a worried look. "Balthazar must die," he said.

"He's been plotting our death all along. And yet—"

"This is going to cause trouble."

I felt it too. In killing Balthazar, I would be doing Bhaal's bidding. That couldn't be right.

* * *

I stood before the portal a moment before we walked through. It looked different. It felt different. It was no mere inanimate device, I now sensed a sort of watchfulness to it. I pushed my hand through and the energies swirled around my wrist. It awaited my command. The key to the portal was no key, it was a knowing in my head. And now I felt I had a deeper knowing. I had more control over the portal now; I could feel it.

But there was no time to experiment. We stepped through and we found ourselves back in Abazigal's lair.

"What happened?" Imoen cried. "You look—gods, Keeta!" She flinched away like I would hit her. I'm not sure what she saw or felt (my power, at a guess) but I only had eyes for one person. Despite Cyric's upsetting and distracting lies, I hadn't forgotten what the Solar told us about Balthazar. The Five had been working together for years, she said. Years of plotting and building up power.

"So, mage," I exclaimed, staring at Libet. I shook free from Sarevok's hold and strode towards her, pulling my dagger from my belt as I walked. "When were you planning to betray us? Is your ambush waiting outside? Or do you wait until we return to Amkethran?"

"No, Keeta, don't hurt her!" Imoen cried as I grabbed the mage by the front of her robes. Imoen grabbed my arm. Power flared. I swear I did not do it on purpose but she jerked back as if I'd hit her.

Jaheira, back in her natural form, reached for Imoen and pulled her away from me. "Have you gone mad?" she cried.

"Balthazar is the last of the Five," Sarevok said from behind me.

"Speak, spy," I said. "We've done your master's dirty work here. What murder is planned for us?" Libet pursed her lips and said nothing.

Keldorn came forward and took my arm. My look did not make him back off. "She has aided us, Keeta," he said.

"No," I replied. "She has aided her master. The Five have turned against each other and now Balthazar is the last of them. He wanted us to kill Abazigal. Now it's our turn. He plans to raise Bhaal and serve Him as a demigod." I gave Libet a little shake. "And we cannot allow her to live."

"I will not permit you to murder this woman."

I stared at Keldorn, not releasing my grip on the mage.

"You know how I feel about leaving enemies at our back," I told him. "She's already persuaded us to do so here. We have a dragon and a horde of kuo-tuoans behind us now, and who knows what else. You have seen how powerful she is. Do you wish to face her spells in battle later?"

"Are you so sure she is our enemy?"

"I have not heard her deny it," I said. "Do you, Libet?"

"I serve Balthazar," she said. "I have no orders regarding you. I chose on my own to aid you against Abazigal. He was evil and dangerous. Balthazar would be the first to say that he must be stopped."

"I just bet," I said. "Why share power when you can have it all?"

Libet pursed her lips again and said nothing.

"Release her," Keldorn said, low in my ear, in a tone that required obedience. Everything in me cried out for this woman's death but despite myself, I let go of her robe.

"This is a mistake," I said to him. "We will regret it. I mean it, Keldorn." His eyes remained intent upon me. "Go then," I told Libet. "Be sure to let your master know that we come for him next."

"He knows," she said. She gave me a look that I could not read. And then she gated away. Off to report to her master, off to plan our death.

My friends had gathered around and most of them stared at me like I had grown an extra head. Jaheira—well, she had spoken no more than a word or two to me in so long that I had no idea what she was thinking anymore. Her eyes were shuttered and she continued to keep her thoughts to herself. Imoen seemed upset and maybe even frightened. Anomen had that half-abstracted look I had seen so often before. He was still in communion with his god and the rest of us hardly existed at the moment. It did seem like he had healed everyone who had needed it however, so that was something. Or perhaps the deva had done it before he had returned to the Upper Planes.

"You are certain that Balthazar is a Bhaalspawn and is one of the Five?" Keldorn asked me.

"I am certain," I said. He looked at Sarevok for confirmation. I was starting to get a little tired of him doing that.

"But I sensed no evil in him."

I frowned. "Contrary to popular belief," I said drily. "Bhaal's blood does not in itself make one evil."

"Do not twist my words, Keeta," Keldorn said sternly. "We were told that the goals of the Five were to spread destruction across Faerûn. I cannot reconcile these actions with what I sensed of Balthazar's character."

I couldn't either, so I just shrugged.


	43. The Monastery

**Ch. 43…The Monastery**

"If the monastery is sealed, how will we get in?" I asked. Keldorn didn't like us talking strategy during our meals—it was impolite and impeded digestion, he said—but the dishes had finally been cleared away from Cespenar's lousy dinner. Silence all around. "What's with the looks?" I finally said. "You know we have to kill him."

More looks. "Why?" Imoen asked.

"For the same reason we had to kill Yaga-Shura and the others."

"It's not the same," she said. She slid her chair closer to Keldorn. She was as far from me as she could be and still sit at the same table. "It's not—it's not _right_," she continued. "Can't you feel it?"

"You didn't have all this heart-burning when we went after Abazigal," I said.

"He was evil! He'd already turned on Balthazar and his son attacked us as soon as he saw us."

"How about this—we break into the monastery and see if Balthazar attacks us. If he does—there you go."

"It's not funny!"

"Do I look like I'm laughing? He could have helped us earlier and he didn't. He's not our ally and he's not our friend."

"So he has to be our enemy?"

"What choice do you think we have in this?" Sarevok asked.

"I don't know!" Imoen cried. "But it sounds like you have your minds made up already! This isn't like you, Keeta. You say you want to break the prophecy but here you are, doing just what it says. Can't you feel how close we are? If you kill Balthazar—I don't know what will happen!"

"We can't walk away now," I said.

"You said you would walk away. You said you would go to Sigil. Do it now!" Her cheeks were flushed. "Bhaal is so close. I can hear him whispering. I can see him—looking out of your eyes, Keeta! I can't take this. What's going to happen when Balthazar dies? It will be you and me."

"I won't hurt you."

"Are you sure?"

I pushed back my chair and took a couple of steps toward the kitchen. I could feel the energy popping out of my skin.

"Balthazar is one of the Five. He's trying to raise Bhaal. How can we leave him free when we go to Sigil? The gods are banned from Sigil but he is not a god."

"If you kill him, you're doing what Bhaal wants you to do."

"Bhaal doesn't control me."

"Are you sure?"

I looked at the others. Keldorn leaned towards Imoen, protectively near. His eyes followed me and they were wary. Jaheira had her remote elf face on. Even Anomen looked uneasy. Did they think I was about to draw my weapon and start slaying? At least I sensed no uncertainty from Sarevok.

"What do you propose?" was my harsh reply.

"Someone needs to talk to Balthazar," she said. "Someone not you."

"To what purpose?" Sarevok asked.

"To see if we can have peace between us," Imoen said. "Balthazar doesn't want all this destruction. Libet told me so."

And you trust her? I wanted to ask but I didn't. It was plain that she did. It was plain that she trusted Libet more than she trusted me.

"She'll talk to me," she continued. "I know that she will."

"And what if her master decides to kill you instead? You're a Bhaalspawn too, you know. You stand in his way as much as I do."

"I will accompany her," Keldorn said. "He will not attack a member of the Order of the Radiant Heart."

"How can you know that?" I asked. But my thoughts were racing and I didn't need Sarevok's look to realize that Keldorn was the likeliest of all of us to get Balthazar to open his gates. And if we met to parley—well. As the githyanki say, we could speak with blades for tongues. If it came to that.

And it would. I just knew it would.

* * *

I had more control of the portal now. Instead of returning us to Abazigal's caverns, I induced it to set us down right outside of Amkethran. Oh, the walking I could have saved if only I had learned this earlier. Perhaps when Balthazar died, I would have enough power to force it to set us on Sigil.

"I have something for you," I'd told Sarevok, before breakfast, in the privacy of my room. "Do you know what this is?"

"Is that what you've been rooting around for all morning?" I handed it to him. "A wand?"

"Be careful with that," I said. "It only has one charge."

"Of what use is a wand to me? I am no mage."

"That's the beauty of it—anyone can use it. It's a wand of cursing." His eyes lit in comprehension. "If we get in a fight—I'm worried about Libet. I don't think we can count on Imoen to take her down if she turns against us." And I wasn't sure we could count on Keldorn either. And those two were our main protection against mages. "This wand will blind, deafen and silence her. It will take her out of the fight long enough for you or me to deal with her."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"Hide it. They might search me. And if I'm Libet's target, you might get a better chance to use it. Like I said, it only has one charge. So make it count."

Instead of plate, I wore my travel leathers, for there was no knowing how long we would have to wait out in the hot sun. Keldorn had the Order's surcoat over his armor and he looked resplendent. Beside him, Imoen looked frail and helpless. With irritation, she waved off my last minute advice.

"Do not worry," Keldorn said. "I have faith Balthazar's men will not attack a knight of the Order." They left and Imoen didn't wave goodbye.

Maybe Keldorn was right. Maybe the monks wouldn't attack a holy warrior. Maybe he was wrong. I did not share his faith. What I did have was hope. The portal had broken a mage's seals when it set me down in Saradush. Should Imoen and Keldorn be captured, I thought I could get it to break Balthazar's seals as well. So why didn't I just break in now? Because I wasn't sure Imoen or Keldorn would stand any more aggression from me. I wasn't too sure of Jaheira either. Let Balthazar strike the first blow. Then they would see I was right. Then they would be sorry they had doubted me.

We waited. After awhile my impatience grew and I went to Jaheira. She squatted in the meager shade of a twisted spiny tree. I fancied I saw a trace of wariness in her eyes when I squatted beside her. I didn't want to take it personally but how else was I supposed to feel when one by one, my oldest closest friends drew back from me?

"What is she trying to accomplish?" I asked. Maybe my voice was harsher than I meant. "Does she care so much for this new friend of hers?"

"It is not that."

"What then?"

She gave me her opaque elf look. "She fears what will happen if you kill Balthazar."

"What does she think will happen if he kills me instead?"

"She doesn't want that either, of course. But she does not wish you to receive any more of Bhaal's power."

"I don't want it either."

There was a long pause with her eyes steady and unblinking on me the whole time. "You do not see yourself as we see you," she finally said. "You are changing."

Here it comes.

"Like I have a choice."

"Some choices are forced upon us, yes," she said. "But some are not. Some of the choices you have made lately—they concern Imoen. They concern me."

"Like what, exactly? In my place, would you have spared Sendai? The Jaheira I know hates drow more than I do. "

"The Keeta I know would not be sleeping with Gorion's killer." My eyes narrowed. My mouth opened. She held up one hand. "I will admit that Sarevok is not the man he was," she said. "But you are not the woman you were." She sighed. "We all have changed. As for myself, I do not know where the balance lies anymore. And that makes me more fearful than I can say."

"I'm afraid too."

"Are you? You say your purpose is to stop Bhaal's resurrection. Yet every step you take brings you closer to his rebirth. I see no fear in you. I am not sure what I do see. You are deep in Bhaal's shadow now. It worries me when I see you and Keldorn in increasing opposition. His eyes may be clearer than mine."

* * *

Imoen and Keldorn returned.

"Balthazar will see us now," she said. "I talked to Libet and she arranged things."

"Right now?" I asked.

"Any reason not to?"

I looked at Sarevok. He gave a minute shrug. "I guess not," I said. Why put it off?

So we trudged into Amkethran, up that dusty road to the monastery and we saw very few mercenaries out. Maybe they were all napping through the fierce heat. Maybe they were off securing the peace. Maybe they had all been fired as a cost-saving measure now that Sendai and Abazigal were dead and their armies scattered. Maybe.

Two young skinny monks in the courtyard opened the big gates when they saw us approach.

"You are expected," said one in a voice still cracking from adolescence. Expected? I just bet we were. I half expected to be asked to lay down our arms (a request I most certainly would have refused) but one monk waved for us to follow him. The other closed the gates behind us, I noticed and I also noticed a shimmer of magic on those massive gates.

We followed our guide through the courtyard and through another set of doors. The monastery, set high above the town, was built into the side of a hill. When we stepped inside I was blinded by the darkness and soothed by its blessed coolness. I blinked wildly while my eyes adjusted. The only light came from small windows set high in the walls. In total contrast to the squalor of the town, the monastery was fanatically clean. In my heavy boots I clumped along shining polished tiles while our guide padded on silent bare feet. The walls were unadorned except for symbols of the Triad: Tyr, Ilmater and Torm. No wonder Keldorn felt safe here. But I felt deeply uneasy. If Balthazar truly honored these gods—if his values were justice, mercy and duty—why had he allowed his mercenaries to turn his town into such a cesspool? And if he was the hypocrite his actions seemed to reveal, why had Keldorn not sensed that?

"Wait here," our guide said. He went through the hall before us at a pace just this side of a run. The large hall was silent except for the noise of our boots. I almost expected an echo as I paced a few steps.

"What is that smell?" I asked Jaheira.

"Incense," she said. I wrinkled my nose, not that the smell was unpleasant.

"Where is it coming from?" I saw no burners. Could it be poison? Was I paranoid?

The hall was empty of all furnishings. There was nowhere to sit and nothing to look at.

**He comes**.

I didn't need Bhaal's warning. I could sense Balthazar's power approach, like a whale breaching the surface of the ocean. He entered the hall with Libet on one side and another monk on the other. The three of them stopped. I took an involuntary step forward.

Whoa, I told myself. Be calm, be calm. But it was hard to be calm when my heart hammered in my chest. I clasped my hands behind my back.

"I know your secret, Balthazar," I said.

"Do you?" His voice was deep and uninflected.

"Yes, brother." His expression did not change. "I know you are a Bhaalspawn. I know you have been working with the Five. I know you plan on resurrecting Bhaal."

He blinked. As his stare lingered on me I saw his eyes slowly fill with gold until they glowed as brightly as Sarevok's. Or mine.

"I am a Bhaalspawn, sister. I bear the same corruption as you. Bhaal's evil taints me, as it taints you. This much is true." His eyes burned into me. My entire being was in a state of readiness. It took a huge act of will to keep my hand off my sword hilt.

"You have fought against this taint your entire life," he continued. "You have tried to accomplish good in this world. So have I. We have both failed."

I opened my mouth and shut it.

"No matter our intentions, death and destruction follows us," he said. "It is the curse of our tainted blood. This curse must end."

"By bringing Bhaal back to life?" I asked.

"No. I was recruited into the Five for that purpose. We were offered power but power is of no interest of me. Only by joining the Five could I learn the location of the other Bhaalspawn. Only as one of the Five could I learn of their plans and work to oppose them."

Yeah, right.

"Who recruited you?" Sarevok asked.

"The one you know as Melissan."

"Melissan is the leader of the Five?" I asked. "Are you saying she is a Bhaalspawn as well?"

"She is not one of the Children," Balthazar said. "She was the greatest of Bhaal's priests, the Deathstalker known as Amelyssan the Black-hearted. She has sought out the scattered Children and plotted their destruction since Bhaal's death."

I digested this in silence. I glanced at Sarevok. I could see that, like me, he found this revelation believable. Whether it was the truth or not, I didn't know, but it was believable. If she was the secret leader of the Five, that explained Melissan's actions better than her self-proclaimed role as a guardian of Bhaalspawn.

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"I do not know."

Great. "So what happens next? Did you actually have a plan or were you going to just sit back and watch us kill each other off?"

"Three of the Children are left and we are here in this room," he said. "Bhaal presses at death's gates. His plans have almost reached their fruition and yet there is still a way to stop his resurrection."

"Let's hear it."

Balthazar took a step closer to me. His eyes blazed. I felt his power thrum against my skin. I felt the Slayer inside me, crouched, ready to spring.

"When I am the last—when all of Bhaal's essence is trapped in my body—I will kill myself in a ritual suicide. The taint will be destroyed, then and forever. Think, Keeta," he said. He took another step closer. So did I. His power drew me. "We cannot let Bhaal back into the world. But this taint is a corruption that we cannot allow to continue. This is the only way we can end this."

"I have a better plan, one that might actually work," I said. "Will you listen? I don't want Bhaal back either. But I'm not going to lie down and die for you. Why in the Nine Hells do you think I would trust you on this? Or on anything?"

"I do not ask for your trust," he said. Behind him, Libet stirred.

"Balthazar, wait," she said. "You said we would hear her out—"

"I cannot wait," he said. He gave a hand signal. "Now, Libet." Her face was set in lines of deep unhappiness but she raised her hands and started a chant.

"No!" Imoen screamed. "Stop her!"

And at the same time, Balthazar's deep voice rang out. "Kill the Bhaalspawn. Spare the others if you can."

Imoen's voice rose in a spell and out of nowhere a monk appeared behind her and with his bare hand, chopped at her neck. She fell limp to the ground. More and more monks appeared from the shadows. They surrounded us. The attack was shocking in its suddenness. My sword hadn't even cleared its sheath before Libet's words were cut off. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sarevok toss away the spent wand. I took a step toward Libet. And I heard Bhaal thunder in my head.

**Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.**

And Balthazar ran straight for me. Some monk beside me kicked me in the side. I staggered a bit but I hardly felt it. My eyeballs felt like they were on fire. I felt the Slayer start to uncurl like a vast serpent in my belly. Sarevok ran between me and Balthazar.

"Use the portal NOW!" Sarevok yelled. Balthazar held out one hand. He slapped Sarevok's shoulder. It didn't look like much of a blow but Sarevok fell, limp, just as Imoen had. I could feel Balthazar's power thrum against my skin.

**KILL HIM!**

I wanted to scream but the power filled my throat.

Keldorn's war voice roared out over the screaming in my head. "Keeta, the portal!"

Balthazar turned on me. His eyes blazed but his face was grim. His hand flashed out—I yanked at the key in my mind, the magic that took me to the portal plane—Balthazar's blow sent me spinning—

I bounced back to my feet and stared wildly about. We were back in the pocket plane. Imoen and Sarevok still lay on the ground.

And Balthazar, his eyes open wide, spun into a defensive crouch.


	44. It Was All a Dream

**Ch. 44… It Was All a Dream**

Jaheira squatted beside Imoen, who stirred when she touched her forehead. And I could see Sarevok's chest move as he breathed. So they were alive.

"What is this place?" Balthazar asked. I stepped forward. My sword was in my hands.

"Your tomb," I answered.

"Keeta, stop," Keldorn commanded. I turned my head toward him, never taking my eyes off the monk.

"Now what?"

I heard Imoen moan. "I can sit up," she said weakly. But my attention was on Keldorn.

"After all he's done, you still want me to spare him?" I asked. "Why? I told you how it would be. He betrayed his partners, he betrayed us. If I hadn't been prepared for an ambush, who knows what his mage's spells would have done."

"It was a Time Stop," Imoen whispered.

"I told you not to leave that woman alive! Tell me, paladin, do you agree with Balthazar? Do we all need to do this ritual suicide?"

"Keeta, calm yourself," Jaheira said.

"I'll feel much calmer when my _brother_ goes back to Bhaal."

Keldorn strode between us and stood in front of Balthazar. His sword was in his hands too. The Holy Avenger shone bright and deadly.

"That is exactly what you must not do," he said.

"I wouldn't turn my back on him," I said, to cover up my agitation. "Keldorn, what are you doing?"

"This must stop," he said. "The two of you have the same goals, or so you say. Do you still intend on preventing Bhaal's return? Or have you changed your mind?"

For a moment I was speechless. I bit my lip to hold back the growl that rose from my throat. After all that had happened—he sided with Balthazar over me? He trusted the word of a betrayer and doubted mine?

**Kill them both.**

A hand closed around my foot. It was Sarevok.

"Stay your hand." He used his elbow to lever himself to a sitting position. His eyes burned into me. I couldn't believe my ears. Had everyone gone mad? Sarevok pulled himself up. He put a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shake him off. Had I ever hampered his sword arm with an enemy before us?

"Listen to me," he said. "If Melissan is preparing the rites to bring Bhaal back, we must unite against her. This is imperative, Keeta." He turned to Balthazar. "Do you know where she is?"

"I do not."

"I know," I said. "She awaits us at the Throne of Blood."

* * *

I left Balthazar in Keldorn's custody. Apparently he gave the paladin his parole not to attack us. I didn't stay to listen. I could hardly bear to be in the same room with either one of them. I couldn't stand anyone's company really. I went to the practice room and pounded the hells out of the dummies there. I bathed. I saw to my gear. There was nothing else to do.

"I can't sleep," I told Sarevok when he urged me to go to bed.

"Rest awhile."

"I can't." He set down the book he was reading. "I can't believe you don't trust me. You turned against me like the others."

"None of us have turned against you."

"Then why is Balthazar still alive? And why is he free here, in our only sanctuary? I can't believe you allowed this. You!"

"We must be careful," he said. "A misstep now would be fatal."

"Letting Balthazar live is a misstep, believe me. I thought you agreed with me."

"I thought I did too but now I am unsure."

"It's because of Keldorn. He doubts me and now you do too."

"It is not you I doubt."

Yeah, right.

"Keeta, I have been down this road. I thought to use Bhaal's power and it betrayed me. And now—I fear what will happen when we take the next step."

"So we do nothing?"

"We wait. Be patient a little longer."

"I can't."

"You can. Come. Lie down and rest."

* * *

Darkness and light swirled overhead like layers of batter in a mixing bowl. Under my feet was hard white stone, a gentle hill that lifted towards the murky horizon. _Am I on the moon?_ But there were no stars overhead.

"No, Keeta, it is my bones you walk upon. We drift in the Astral Plane."

When is a dream not a dream? When it is some cursed dead god talking in your head. I looked down again. What was I stepping on? A giant kneecap? Maybe a long snaggly tooth.

"Ugh," I said. "I'll be waking up now."

"Daughter, we must speak."Bhaal's voice echoed in my head.

"Then say your piece and get it over with. This place gives me the horrors."

"By all means, let us go somewhere more comfortable."

I blinked. We were in a small room, too small to accommodate the books and scrolls that crammed the bookcases along the walls and spilled over onto the table and floor. An oil lamp burned brightly on the scarred pine table. A man stood, his back to me, and looked out the high window before us. I'm not sure what he was looking at; all I could see was a formless white fog. But then a god, even a dead one, can see further than a mortal. I sat down and ran my fingers along the edge of the table, where I had once used my penknife to carve my name.

We were in Gorion's bookroom, back in Candlekeep.

Or a semblance of it, at least. If I opened the door behind me, would it lead to the hall of the great library or would I find myself back upon my father's bones? I had little desire to find out.

The man turned, tucked his hands behind his back, and looked at me. I returned his study. He was tall, with a long angular face and deep-set eyes. Those eyes—I flicked my gaze away. His eyes dispelled the illusion that he was human.

"Is this your mortal form?" I asked. He nodded. "Well, thanks for not subjecting me to that awful avatar again, Dad." His lip twitched in the half-amused, half-irritated expression I'd seen on Sarevok's face a thousand times. He pulled out the chair opposite me and sat. "Of all of us, I think Balthazar takes after you the most," I said when he continued to study me.

"In appearance, perhaps. In temperament, decidedly not."

"I hope you're not going to tell me I get those honors." He smiled a bit. I didn't look up high enough to see if his smile made it to his eyes. "Well, you made a mistake bringing me here if you're trying to talk me into something," I said. "Gorion was more my father than you ever were. When I see you there, sitting in his chair, it just pisses me off. Bad."

"I am aware of your feelings for your foster father."

"Foster father? Feh. He _was_ my father while you were nothing more than—than seed spilled in the night. I owe him much, while you—" I put my clenched fists on my thighs to hide them. "You, I owe nothing."

His hands opened and closed in an ambiguous gesture. "I doubt even you believe that."

"You're right. Your foul taint has poisoned my life, so I owe you something for that, I suppose. Too bad you're already dead."

"Bold words." Again, that irritated smile.

"If you could actually do anything to me, you wouldn't be speaking to me in dreams, now would you? No, you'd order me to slit my own throat."

"Your death at this time would be a serious inconvenience for me."

"Yeah, for me too."

"Why do you continue to fight me?"

I snorted. "Is that a serious question?"

"What do you hope to accomplish?"

I stared. "To keep myself alive and to keep you safely dead."

"What good does my death do you?"

"There is already more than enough evil in the world without bringing you back into it."

"Ah, but can you truly believe that leaving that usurper Cyric in my role as the Lord of Murder is a good act? He has taken too much. He must be opposed or he will take more. Can you not feel the shift in the balance between the gods? No, your mortal shell blinds you to the truth, I suppose. There is more at stake here than you can see."

"I suppose I should just take your word for that?"

"Am I less reliable than these others whose word you have taken?"

"Um, yeah. Your goal is not exactly in my own best interest. I am not one of your fanatical priests. I am not panting to die for you."

"And these others? This Solar who speaks for Ao—does she represents your interests? Sarevok, Balthazar, the one you know as Melissan? Even your foster father had goals of his own when he took you from my temple. If you believe that your own safety and well-being were principal amongst these, you fool yourself."

Yeah, right. "What's your point?"

"My point, daughter, is that my words are no less reliable than the others whose counsel you have taken." I snorted. "You have been misled by these others, either through ignorance or by deliberate half-truths."

"And you have come to give me the real truth, is that so?"

"Hear, and judge for yourself. You carry a god's blood in your veins, my blood, but that does not make you a god."

"I do not want to be a god. I've never wanted to be a god."

"So you say but you draw upon my power when it suits you to do so. My power is not yours to use as you will. You are a mere receptacle."

"I do not draw upon your power and I do not want it."

He smiled. "Lies are Cyric's domain but even I can smell one when it is thrust upon me. My power is the only reason you have survived as long as you have. Lie to yourself, if you must, but not to me."

"Nothing would make me happier than to be free of your taint."

"Then return my power, daughter."

"I'm not going to die for you."

"You need not die. I see your disbelief but I assure you I speak the truth. My essence can be—extracted, if you like—while you still live."

"Oh yeah? Then why haven't you already done so?"

"I cannot act. I am dead, daughter."

"Who, then, can do this extraction?" Sounded like drawing a tooth.

"Amelyssan the Black-Hearted, first of my priests and greatest of my Deathstalkers. You know her as Melissan."

"So Balthazar told the truth, about that at least. Melissan is your priest. And she has been herding all us little Bhaalspawn together for the slaughter. So why are you talking to me? Sic her on us. Or are you afraid I'll kill her?"

"I want you to kill her."

"What?"

"The Black-Hearted has betrayed me. She, the most favored of my priests, seeks to take my power and assume my godhood. I thought her loyalty outweighed her ambition. In that, I was wrong. Fool that I am, I did not understand this part of the prophecy until too late."

I had to laugh. "Another would-be god! How pissy for you, Dad. After all the work you've done to guarantee yourself another life, look what happens. Betrayed by your own priestess! Maybe that sweet little nickname should have given you a clue."

"You are amused."

"Hells yes, I'm amused. What do you want me to do about it?"

"I want you to murder her, of course."

"Of course. You might just be in luck. I have plans along those lines, as it happens."

"You should. Your death is imperative for her."

"Why hasn't she sucked the god juice out of me already? She had her chance in Saradush."

"She needed you to kill the others. The essence can only be removed by your death or with your consent."

"Ha. If she had asked nice, I would have given it to her. Too bad."

"But you, daughter, you also have the power to remove my essence." I blinked at him. "You are the strongest of my children. I can teach you the ritual required to remove the essence and return it to me. You would then be freed from my taint."

"And you would live again. What about Imoen and Balthazar? Don't you need their essence?"

"You must first take their essence, of course. Imoen will yield it to you readily, if I am not mistaken. Balthazar—him, you must kill."

I would, if anyone would let me.

"Why? Can't I take his essence?"

"Only if he agrees to it. Do you think he will? His heart is set on death and always has been. If you think you can persuade him, by all means, make the attempt." His fingers tapped on the table top. "But I suggest you prepare yourself for a fight."

"So I can just give it up? Just like that? Why has no one told me this before?"

"Why would they? The Five sought to divide my power amongst themselves like it was booty they had any right to. Your Sarevok thinks only in terms of godhood. Once he believed he could wrest the power from me. Now he sees that you can ascend and he'll wish to rise to power through you. Balthazar believes that by martyring himself he can somehow lessen the evil in the world. As if that is possible or even desirable." At my look, he said, "Too much goodness brings as much suffering as too much evil."

"You know what? I'll take my chances with too much goodness."

He shook his head at me. "You display your lack of understanding, but I have no time to educate you. Of all my children, you alone have not only the strength to hold my essence but the will to release it. It falls upon you, Keeta, to restore me and thus free yourself as well."

"I'm here to stop the chaos and death of the prophecy. I'm not here to bring you back to life. That's what Ao's Solar told me." Didn't she? Had I misunderstood?

"The chaos will stop when I am restored and not before. Do you understand nothing? My essences, loosened, unharnessed and contested, are the cause of the destruction you rail against. To resurrect me is to return the world to its natural order."

"I don't believe you."

"I cannot compel your belief." His dark eyes bored into me. "But think it through, daughter. You mortals are not meant to contain divinity. Can you not feel it strain to free itself?"

"I know that."

"And what are the ways that the divinity can be stripped from you? The mad mage Irenicus thought he could take it by force. Only by your death—or an act of will—can the essence be freed. In either case, the divinity must return to its source. Me. There is no other option."

"I don't think so."

Bhaal shrugged. "Another god can take my power, true. How is that an improvement, daughter? Do you honestly believe there will be more goodness in the world if you leave my realm in Cyric's hands or allow it to pass to Amelyssan? What does logic tell you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't want to admit that I'm right." He leaned towards me. "The time for your decision is almost upon you. Your plan to relocate to Sigil—and yes, I am aware of it—only postpones the time until my return. You delude yourself if you think you can run from your destiny. You cannot. Act, daughter. Bring me back. By doing so, you can spare your sister Imoen. Fail to act and others will act for you. You both will die. Balthazar, Amelyssan, or perhaps Ao himself will see to that. Bring me back and you will have the favor of a god."

"I want nothing from you."

"You have said you wish freedom from my taint. I can give you that." I opened my mouth. "And I offer more than any other can. I offer you the life of my son Sarevok."

I know I wasn't in my body but I still felt my heart falter. "How is that yours to offer?"

"Oh, my deluded child. What do you think will happen to Sarevok when the divine essence is taken from you? What do you think sustains his mortality?" He lowered his voice. "Have you not guessed? He knows, if you do not. Why do you think he is so protective of your life?"

"Damn you!"

"I see you understand me. I will put the knowledge of the ritual in your mind. Kill Balthazar. Induce Imoen to yield her essence to you. My portal will then take you to the seat of my power, the place in the Abyss where all the essences have been gathered. That is where you will find Amelyssan. You will murder my priestess and resurrect me, Keeta."

* * *

And then I was awake and my heart hadn't stopped; it pounded like it wanted to force its way out of my chest. I lay in the bed, rigid with anger and terror, and felt the knowledge Bhaal had planted in my brain throb like a rotten tooth. As I listened to Sarevok's steady breath I could also feel the energies of the Abyss swirl around me. I could feel the walls that insulated this place from the greater energies that lay beyond—energies that I could stir and manipulate. I had already done so; I could feel it now. This pocket plane was not so different from the simulacrum of Gorion's study that Bhaal had made for our meeting. It was real; it wasn't real. A dream; not a dream. I could feel my mortality surround me like an eggshell. When it cracked, I would awaken into the reality that the gods experienced.

And I saw how I could take more of the power into myself. Another tugged at the strands that surrounded us. Amelyssan? Almost I could feel her, near and yet far. We were balanced but could not remain so. As I was aware of her, no doubt she was equally aware of me. Could she force herself here, into the pocket plane? I didn't think so. This place was keyed to me and besides, if she could, she would have done so already.

That was a theory, anyway. What should I do?

I crept out of bed. Sarevok, who had his back to me, stirred. I stood beside the bed and waited but he didn't wake. From where I stood, I couldn't see his face, only the long line of leg, hip, shoulder, skull. His life was tied to mine. I knew that but that his death was tied to mine was an unwelcome revelation. He believed it but I hadn't, up to now. Was it true? I didn't want to believe it could be. And yet—when Irenicus stole my divine soul (or the pieces of it he could root out) our deaths had been tied together. So there was a precedent for what Bhaal had told me.

I unlocked the door and slipped out of the room, silent on my bare feet. If Bhaal spoke the truth about Sarevok, how many of his other words also held the truth? What did the prophecy say? I thought I had forgotten but words came clear to my mind as if I held the scroll in front of me. "When the Beast's bastard children come of age, they will bring havoc to the lands of the Sword Coast." The prophecy did not warn of Bhaal's return but of the struggle to obtain and control his power. Would it be such a terrible act to bring him back, if it brought peace? The power had to go somewhere and it would corrupt whoever held it. At least with Bhaal, we knew what to expect.

Why had this decision fallen to me? Surely someone wiser would do better. If Gorion was still alive—but he wasn't. Dead like so many others. I walked down the silent hall to the room Anomen and Keldorn shared and tried not to notice the helpful way the ceiling ahead of me glowed to light my steps. I set my hand to the latch and the door swung inward. Both men slept. Anomen woke when I gripped his shoulder. Perhaps the Helmite church trains its vigilant ones to wake quickly but more likely it was the crappy watch schedule we all were used to from our days on the road.

"What is it?" he asked. I beckoned him to follow me. With a glance at Keldorn's sleeping form, he did so. The lights flared in the common room when I entered. Anomen and I were both in our sleeping clothes but with the cool temperatures of the pocket plane, we were dressed modestly enough. We sat at the nearest table.

"What has happened?" he asked. He leaned forward, his mouth turned down with concern. "You look—are you ill?"

"I'm sorry to drag you out of bed but I had a dream and I really need to talk about it." Anomen sat back. There were plenty of questions in his eyes and I didn't blame him. "Bhaal came to me," I said and I told him much of what he'd told me. "Is it true about Sarevok?" I asked. "Will he die when Bhaal's essence leaves me?"

I didn't realize my hands were shaking until he laid his hand over my restless fingers. "I suspect that is true. Jaheira calls Sarevok an abomination."

"She doesn't like him."

"Neither do I like him but that is not why I call him unnatural. She and I have both sensed the same thing. I told you once that he was neither undead nor truly alive. What I sense in his spirit, for lack of a better word, is something I cannot put a name to, for I have never seen its like." He pressed my fingers to the table. "He was raised by the power of a dead god, Keeta, and there is something—lacking. If Bhaal says his life is tied to your own, that may well be the truth."

"But—"

"But evil turns the truth to deception," he said.

"So will he die or won't he?"

"Keeta, I do not know. But tell me this. Is it Sarevok's will that Bhaal be brought back? Does he ask you to do this to preserve his life?"

"I haven't told him."

"What haven't you told me?" Sarevok strode through the doorway. His dark robe fluttered against his calves.

"Damn your eavesdropping, I wasn't speaking to you," I said. I'm not sure where in my words he heard an invitation but he took the seat beside me.

"Do I interrupt a clandestine meeting between former lovers?" he asked. Anomen snatched his hands away from mine. "No need to look indignant, priest, I was being facetious."

Despite my frowns, Anomen told Sarevok of my dream.

"I need to know what my options are," I said. "Once the essence is taken from me, if Sarevok dies—will you be able to resurrect him?"

"I think it will take a god's intervention and Sarevok is faithless."

"You're the priest. Isn't your faith enough?"

"In this case I think more is required. You could petition Lathander—"

"Lathander prefers us to move on after death, not to return to our mortal lives." I leaned my forehead against my fists. "What am I going to do?"

"You were warned," Sarevok said. "In this, Helm has played fairly with us." He gave Anomen one of his sideways glances.

"Do not bring Bhaal back," Anomen said.

"Bhaal had his time," Sarevok said. The men shared a look of reluctant agreement. "He needs to learn that his time has passed and accept his own death." He sighed. "As must I."

"Wrong answer," I said. "Let someone else make the sacrifice. If someone has to die, let Balthazar do it. He seems keen on the idea." Anomen gave me one of his looks. "All right, all right, it was just a joke." Sort of.

Sarevok stood. "We can solve nothing here tonight so we may as well return to bed," he said. Before I could object, he took my arm and hustled me out of my seat. Back in our room, he barred the door again. I could tell by his face I wasn't going to like what was about to come next.

"Keeta. I have already been given more than I had any right to expect."

"No," I said. "Don't you dare make me a farewell speech. I won't stand for it."

"As you wish." He took my chin in his hand. "You must make a vow to me. In this place, you know it will be binding. You will swear you will not attempt to ascend to godhood."

"I've told you I don't want that."

"I know. But what I see in your eyes—swear to me that you will not take Bhaal's powers in an attempt to save my life. Should you do so, you will not only be lost to me, you will be lost to yourself."

"I thought you wanted me to become a god."

"When you are the one who taught me how foolish such ambitions are? And you still think I care about that?"

Actually I didn't. "Then we don't need to talk about it, do we?"

"Your oath, Keeta."

I hesitated. He shook me.

"Fine. I swear."

He frowned. "You can do better than that."

I sighed. "I swear I won't become a god to save your life. There. Happy?"

He continued to frown. "You would not make a false oath, would you? The consequences of doing so would be dire."

I gave him wide eyes. "You know how I feel about oaths."

I was sure the consequences would be dire. Our situation was already pretty damned dire and getting direr by the moment. Could a few words really make the consequences any worse? Besides, if I brought Bhaal back, I wouldn't be breaking my word, now, would I? Or, instead, if I took the power into myself, it wouldn't be to save Sarevok. It would be to keep Bhaal from returning. And if that happened—if I became a god—I could order things as I pleased.


	45. The Ravager

**Ch. 45…The Ravager**

The next morning (or whatever it was, I'd lost track of time again) I found Imoen slumped in her chair in the common room, her head propped up on the back of her hand.

"Have a nice sleep?" I chirped.

She gave me bleary eyes. "Gods, no."

"Bad dream?" She grunted. At least she didn't move away from me. "Want to share?"

"For now, I'd rather pretend my dreams are the random product of a diseased intellect. Makes me feel more normal. Hey, what did you do to Cespenar, anyway? He's acting all weird."

"Weirder than usual? How can you tell?" She shrugged. I turned towards the back room and hollered. "Cespenar, hustle along with the breakfast. We're starving out here."

In the kitchen, something slammed against the wall. Sounded like a big pot. And its lid.

"Uh oh," Imoen said. "Maybe we're not the only ones who woke up on the wrong side of the Abyss."

"I guess he knows the end is coming."

"The end, huh? The final, final end? What will happen to him?"

"I guess he'll get a new boss."

"You guess? Got a pretty good guess there, do you? And who will that be?"

We eyed each other. "Well, that's the question, isn't it?"

"I guess you feel like I let you down yesterday."

"Maybe," I said.

"I still think killing Balthazar is wrong," she said. "Even if I can't stand him." She looked around. "He isn't hiding in the shadows, is he?"

"He can't hide from me here," I said. I could sense him. "He's in the practice room."

"Meditating I guess."

"Thinking about suicide maybe," I said hopefully.

"I can't believe Libet turned on us. That spell she was casting—she taught it to me. It was Time Stop. If she'd gotten it off, we'd have been toast."

"I need to tell you something."

"I thought maybe you did."

Hmm. I told her some of what I'd learned from my dream. Cespenar bobbed out of the kitchen with a pot of tea and a couple of mugs. He dumped them on the table near Imoen.

He gave me a long reproachful look.

"What?" Instead of a reply, he hovered beside Imoen a moment and then returned to the kitchen. I let him go, not being in the mood to deal with a temperamental imp.

"So," Imoen said. "You can pull the taint right out of me. Sounds good. What's the catch?"

"Well, I've never done it. And I'm not sure what the aftereffects will be."

"The last time someone sucked out my soul, I didn't feel so great. Try it on Balthazar first."

"Fine. You go tell him."

Imoen rolled her eyes. "What does Sarevok say? Does he think it will work?"

"Why would he know any more than I do?"

"Because Sarevok knows everything."

"Oh, that. I keep forgetting." I looked around. I didn't hear anyone in the hall but I dropped my voice anyway. "Look," I said. "If something happens to me—I want you to keep an eye on Sarevok. Afterward. You know."

"Oh, please, just cut it out."

"I'm serious, Imoen."

"I hate to break it to you but I'm not his friend. Nor do I want to be."

"Be his sister then. Just keep an eye out, that's all I ask."

"If something happens to you, the rest of us are probably dead anyway, bufflehead. You think Lady Melissan is going to keep me around as an acolyte for her new temple?"

"Who knows what might happen?"

"I don't but you're making me nervous right now, you know?"

"But you'll do what I ask."

"What's it worth to you?" I gave her a light punch on the arm. "All right, all right, I'll think about it."

I nodded. Through my skin I could feel the pulse of the energy all around us, steady but urgent like a heartbeat. "I didn't think it all would end like this. We try to stop the fighting and we find we're the reason for it all. And killing doesn't help."

"It's helped plenty. Think how many more would have died if the Five's armies had marched up the coast."

"Yes and yet the taint still exists. We can't kill it. We can't destroy it. All we can do is decide who should keep it. All this killing to keep Bhaal from returning and now it seems so pointless. Would it be so bad if He did come back?"

"You never knew a time when He was alive," Jaheira said behind me. "If you did, you wouldn't ask." She looked at the empty side table. "There's no food ready? What is Cespenar thinking?" She sat beside Imoen and poured a mug of tea.

"Was Bhaal so terrible?" I asked.

"In a word, yes. He was savage, cruel and sadistic. We have all seen the Slayer. You have felt it as no other has. What do your own experiences tell you?"

"But was it Him or the nature of the job? Will we be any better off with another on His throne?"

"Like Melissan?" She smiled at my raised brows. "Anomen has told us of these revelations of yours."

"I suppose it was naïve to think the taint could somehow be erased from the world. Someone must take this power—someone strong enough to hold it and defend it so there will be an end to this fighting. Why not Bhaal? Wouldn't whoever holds the Throne of Blood become as evil as He?"

"Perhaps the throne will be changed by the one who holds it," Jaheira said.

"You're sure Bhaal can come back without killing us?" Imoen asked. I nodded. "Well, that's one big negative out of the way. My first thought is you're crazy. But I don't know. I wonder what it would be like to be the daughter of a living god. Would we have more enemies or less?"

"More careful ones, I suspect."

"Really, I'm surprised at you two," Jaheira said. "Such a jest is in poor taste at any time but particularly now."

Imoen and I exchanged looks. Who was jesting? "You believe Amelyssan the Black-Hearted is a better choice?"

"I don't know."

"Bhaal at least has honor."

"Honor? Bhaal? Sometimes I wonder if you're insane," Imoen said. "Other times I'm pretty sure I know."

"I don't know why I bother speaking when every word out of my mouth meets with scorn."

"Try making sense."

"I am making sense. Bhaal has never hidden what He is or what He wants. Amelyssan is a priestess who's betrayed her most sacred oaths," I said. "She's a liar. She's lied to us, to the Five, to Bhaal, to everyone. She'll be another Cyric. I have to kill her." I set down my empty mug and stood. "I want to kill her."

* * *

I was in the hall when a tingle started at my scalp and ran down my body in an eldritch warning. I ran into my room. Sarevok had dressed but lay stretched out on the bed with a book. He tossed it aside when he saw my face.

"What is it?" he asked. I yanked my sword free of the sheath.

"I don't know."

"Wait, damn you." He jerked within a tangle of covers but I didn't wait. He had long legs. Let him catch up. I ran down the hall, hollered Anomen's name and rapped my hilt against his door. I didn't pause to see if he'd come. He was a Helmite; he wouldn't be lazing in bed like an overgrown schoolboy. The tingling in my skin grew stronger, like sharp little forks scratching all along my body. I skidded to a halt in the main hall. Balthazar stood with his arms sunk to the elbow in the barrier that closed off the last of the challenge rooms. Blue fire cast a ghastly light over his ascetic features. I thought the barrier was deadly but he didn't seem to be dying from it.

"Stop!"I hollered.

He turned his head to look at me. His eyes glowed blue like banked coals and I thought from more than mere reflection of the barrier.

"The way forward lies here," he said.

"Get away from there."

"What have you locked away behind this wall of power? What hideous secret lies hidden here? I can feel the stench of its evil."

"If you know it is evil, leave it the hells alone. Don't turn it loose on us."

Balthazar shook his head. "Evil must be destroyed. I must see the truth of this place." He pushed harder against the barrier.

"Damn it! At least give us a chance to get ready."

"I am ready now."

His shoulder slid through the wall. The forks dug deeper into my flesh.

**Let him face it alone, daughter.**

_What's in there?_

**Death.** **Blackest murder.**

"Balthazar, no." I grabbed his nearest shoulder. The shock of the barrier gave me such a jolt that even my teeth hurt. My hands tightened in reflex and he pulled me forward. The door exploded in a blinding white glare. I stumbled and released Balthazar to catch my balance. The barrier formed again behind me. I saw what we were trapped with and cursed again.

Balthazar ran forward and faced the monster that stood half again his height. The fiendish horror that reached for him was Bhaal in the same perverted sense that the Slayer is me. His features were vaguely like Bhaal's mortal form but where Bhaal had at least appeared to be civilized, this creature did not. He had nails like claws, a thick barbaric beard, wild hair and wilder eyes. His eyes burned with the fires of mad unreasoning hatred. Two huge horns curved backwards from his forehead.

With a clatter of bone striking bone, floating daggers appeared from nowhere to form a line between me, Balthazar and the monster, a sharp fence to keep him within and me without. The daggers looked familiar. Back in Nashkel, long before I knew what I was, I'd dreamed of just such weapons. Bhaal's unholy daggers.

"I am the Ravager," the monster said in a voice as deep as the Abyss. He loomed over Balthazar. "I am what lies within you."

"You are the evil that must be purged. My life has been dedicated to your destruction," he said.

"Your life has been dedicated to the greater glory of Bhaal. Die now and serve your purpose."

The Ravager was big but he wasn't slow. A huge fist flashed towards Balthazar. I stepped forward and the daggers gave me a rattle of warning. The Ravager was fast but Balthazar was faster. My eyes could hardly keep up as the monk evaded the blow and returned it with a roundhouse kick that snapped into the monster's shin with a painful-sounding thud. The Ravager staggered then swung again. This give and take went on a few moments—Balthazar side-stepped all blows and returned them with little apparent damage to the beast. I realized they were testing each other when the real fight began.

Time sped for me or it slowed for them, as they moved in a whirl of motion in which I could pick only flashes of action. My ears told me blows were struck but my eyes weren't so certain until Balthazar flew past me in a spinning cartwheel and smashed into the wall. I stepped forward, my blade leading, and a whirlwind of flying daggers jabbed into my flesh. One flew right beneath my eye and pressed into the delicate skin with a touch as gentle and menacing as a demonic butterfly.

Through the water of tears, I looked at Balthazar. He lived. He dragged himself to his feet. One arm hung limp by his side and his shoulder was a pulpy mess. Surely no one could fight in that condition. His eyes acknowledged me and then, without the aid of potion or spell, he vanished. The Ravager roared.

I let the point of my sword drop and with my free hand, batted the dagger away from my eye. "Get this idle threat out of my face. If I die Melissan becomes the next Lady of Murder." Something nipped at my heels. I looked down at the blades that threatened my tendons.

**I need not kill you to keep you out of this.**

Damn, but I missed my armor! There was still no sign of Balthazar. "Fine then," I said. "I'm out of this." The daggers let me move backward toward the door. I eyeballed the glowing barrier. "Let me pass."

I pushed my hand against the barrier. My fingers sunk deep within the field of energy. Sparks popped but I felt no more than a tingle. Ha. Bhaal wouldn't let it kill me. I leaned forward and pushed my head through. Lightning flashed against my eyes. I couldn't see anything but I could hear.

"Keeta, are you hurt?" Sarevok yelled.

"Is Anomen there?"

"My lady?"

"Anomen, take my hand."

**You will not seek help. Balthazar is mine.**

Anomen's bare fingers touched mine. I shifted my hand to grip his wrist and gave a warning squeeze. With a jerk that almost popped my shoulder, I yanked him through the barrier. We both almost fell. He slammed into me and in his struggle for balance he stomped my foot with enough force to break something.

Anomen wore his armor and his helm. No shield but he had his weapon in his belt. As usual he did not disappoint me; I knew he'd be ready for a fight. The bone daggers flew toward his face. I flung my body in the way like a human shield.

He looked up and saw the Ravager kick the ground in his search for Balthazar.

"Helm, protect us," he said in an awed voice.

"I hope He does, right this moment. Quick, get your protections up," I said. Anomen blinked at me but began his chants. I swatted a more aggressive blade. "Kill him and I won't stand much chance against your priestess later," I warned it. The blades hovered in what I took as inanimate indecisiveness. "I don't know how long that will hold them," I whispered. "Balthazar is in here somewhere, invisible. Bhaal wants him dead but He needs me alive."

**Don't push your luck. You are not the last of my children.**

_Don't push_ your _luck._ _Your threats don't mean much to me right now. We both know I'm your best chance._

He didn't say any more but I could feel His frustration in my head. The Ravager growled his own frustration and swung his fist in a wide probing circle. "Come forth, coward," it growled.

Between blinks, Balthazar emerged on the far side of the room, behind the Ravager and out of his sight. He appeared to be completely healed. That was a neat trick. His face was calm and expressionless. He took several silent steps toward the beast and spoke two words. With a roar like a dragon, fire erupted around him. The creature whirled right into the magical flames. With his hair and beard ablaze, he struck at Balthazar but Balthazar wasn't there. The monk spoke again and a hot desert wind screamed out. I squeezed my eyes almost shut against the sand that blew from nowhere. The Ravager fell back while the flames that burned him intensified. Engulfed in flames, the creature looked more ghastly than ever and even more furious.

"Perhaps you can wound me but you cannot defeat me. Always you hide behind others. Do not hide from your fate."

"Helm!" Anomen called out beside me. "Let your righteous power smite this unholy beast." I felt a rumble through my feet, the particularly terrifying rumble of thunder that comes right on top of the lightning strike when you stand in the heart of the storm. I drew my arm up over my eyes, a tad too slow to protect my vision from the god's wrath. The world was white and I was blinded.

After some painful blinks, my sight struggled to return. Through a blizzard of flashes and afterimages, I saw the Ravager had fallen to his knees. Balthazar, a spinning blur, kicked and pounded his face, his throat, his shoulders. He danced out of the way of those huge fists as they struck back in blows that weakened as I watched.

The huge shaggy head turned toward me. "Help me kill him. You cannot let him live. He will never submit to you and he will show you no mercy."

"I have no mercy for evil," Balthazar said. "Never." His foot lashed out and struck the Ravager's jaw. The beast raised his arm to block the next two kicks.

I could feel power build around me. Balthazar hit faster and harder. His hands and feet were bloody. I could not tell if the blood was his or the Ravager's. His face was serene. The bone blades deserted me and swooped upon him like a flock of deadly sparrows. He ignored their attacks. The Ravager sank to the ground. The blades dropped to the ground in one last clatter and then they were gone. So was the Ravager.

Balthazar turned slowly to face me. Anomen took a protective step forward as the monk approached. A pale form shimmered into view between us. I lifted my sword in reflex and then dropped it again.

The Solar had arrived.

* * *

The sound of running feet behind us told me the barrier was down. Keldorn, Imoen and Jaheira followed Sarevok—we were all here. Sarevok's expression told me we were going to have another of those high-volume discussions shortly. I grimaced. Surely he could work out for himself why it was Anomen I'd needed and not him.

I approached the Solar. "We've been waiting for you."

"Your education is nearly complete, godchild."

"It is true, what Bhaal told me in a dream? Melissan plans to ascend to godhood?"

"Amelyssan the Black-hearted has killed many Bhaalspawn. When she has taken them all, she will attempt to take the Throne of Blood. Without the essences contained by you, the last of Bhaal's children," and she nodded to Imoen and Balthazar, "She cannot do so. Nor can you, without hers. Your confrontation is inevitable.

"Your journey is almost at an end, godchild. Amelyssan awaits you in your father's Abyssal realm. What is decided there will decide the fate of you both."

"The—the other things Bhaal told me, they are true as well?" I carefully did not look at Sarevok.

"The Lord of Murder did not lie to you."

"I can take the remaining essences from Imoen and Balthazar in the way that he told me?"

"Yes, if they are willing for you to do so."

"And they will be unharmed?"

"They will be changed, as you will be changed, godchild. It is for you to decide if the change is for good or for ill."

Great, more cryptic godspeak. "Can the taint be destroyed?"

"Not in the sense that you mean."

"There is a way to remove the taint from the world, Solar," Balthazar said. "I can bind the taint to my soul. When I die, it will be destroyed with me."

"It is too late for that," she said. "You cannot bind the taint to your soul for Amelyssan has already done so."

"Too late?" Balthazar whispered. "Too late? Did she know what I had planned? I have failed in this?" His face was ashy. "What then should I do?"

"I cannot advise you."

"Well, I can," Imoen said. "Let Keeta take the taint from you."


	46. Pick Your Poison

**Ch. 46…Pick Your Poison**

Balthazar gave me a look of such inexpressible weariness of body, spirit and soul that I almost felt sorry for him. Then he opened his mouth.

"So, it comes down to this. A choice between two evils—you or Melissan—and I do not know which is the greater one."

"How dare you compare me to her? Do you believe your own lies that I am the one responsible for the slaughter at Saradush? I have fought you and the Five every step of the way."

"In ignorance, you opposed us. I saw that in your eyes when we first met. Now that ignorance has been stripped away and the knowledge that replaces it frightens me, Keeta. You are the favored of Bhaal. I look in your eyes and I see Him there. It is not enough to take what you believe are good actions; your intent must be good as well."

"What a load of crap. Is that how you live with yourself? 'Too bad about all those innocents that got killed in Saradush, but hey, I'm working for the greater good. They died for a good cause.' You make me sick."

"I have made mistakes."

"That's an even worse excuse." I turned away from him and clenched my fists behind my back. The others had gathered around us in the main hall. Keldorn gave me a look of patient rebuke that only fanned my fury. Bad timing, paladin. I swiveled back to Balthazar. "Even if you're right, which you aren't, why should I care what you say? Your judgment means less than nothing to me."

"I claim no high moral ground."

Oh yeah? Every contemptuous look was just such a claim. "Let's get this over with. Are you willing or not?"

Balthazar bowed his head. "I am willing."

I took a step forward. He didn't flinch when I took his chin in my hand but his expression was worse than a flinch. "Something bothering you?"

"I see the Slayer entwined deep in your soul. Your proximity sickens me. I am not so certain you have the will to contain this beast. Yet I feel your eagerness to take it into yourself."

I could feel my eyes burn hot. How I wanted to hurt him. I could feel the bristles from his shaved chin when I rubbed my fingers against him in a mock caress. "Brother," I murmured. His taint was like a huge ripe fruit. I could almost smell it, sweet and rotten and succulent. So much power. "When I met you, you were calm." I pitched my voice for his ears alone. "So certain you alone were right. If I killed you now, it would be no more than you deserve."

"I will face judgment one day but judgment is not yours to deliver."

"Nor is it yours. When I came to you for peace, you betrayed me, brother. Kneel before me now." Anger snapped in his dark eyes. I smiled. "Think of it as contrition for the children who starved in Amkethran while you played along with the Five. Prove to me that you're truly willing to have this taint taken from you. Get on your knees."

"I doubt that yielding to you is the right choice, yet I see no other."

"Yes, you are out of choices. Will you make me do this by force? You are formidable, Balthazar. But I do not believe you can take us all."

"If the others truly saw what I see in your soul, would they aid you or me?"

"Ask them."

"No. I am committed to this course of action. I have tried on my own to defeat the schemes of Bhaal and I have failed. My own actions have brought me to this point. I will yield to you now. I will fight by your side against Melissan. And I will pray to Tyr, to Torm and to Ilmater that I make the right choice at last."

His words were humble but the disdainful grace with which he dropped to his knees made me want to rip the taint out through his eyeballs. He took a slow breath and I felt it, like calming air in my own lungs. I had thought he built calmness like a wall or a mask but now I saw something different. He did not erect a wall. He dropped his own barriers and opened himself. How could I sense this? Did the bond we shared with Bhaal give me insight? Balthazar knew what he had done. He'd felt the betrayal and hopelessness of those murdered in Saradush; he'd fought out of fear and greed with his mercenaries in Amkethran; he'd starved with the children in his village as the food stretched thinner and thinner. He did not act out of ignorance but in full knowledge that his actions rippled in an ever-widening net of pain and destruction. He knew the impact his choices made and still he'd made them.

"It must end," he said. Death as an end to it all—that was all he could see. "I am committed to seeing it end. Are you?"

Bhaal had shown me how to do this. Simple, really, like so many things that seem impossible. The taint Balthazar bore was part of him but also it was part of me. The taint wanted to return to its source; that was its sole purpose. To take the power, all I had to do was welcome it home. I was no god. I knew I was no god. In that moment, I was. I took in a breath. With it, I stripped the taint from Balthazar's soul. He was willing and his spirit was willing but the taint ran through him like blood. He'd said the Slayer was entwined with my soul. So it was with him. Like blood, the taint poured out, pumped by the heart of his will. I took it—breathed it in like dark mist, drank it in like hot blood, sucked it into my very soul in a burning ecstatic agony.

Blood. I could almost feel it. Blood hot on my hands, slick against my face, the smell of it, the taste of it, the feeling of the life blood pouring out as an offering, the ultimate offering, the gift of everything.

I moaned. I dropped to my knees beside Balthazar. His face was green. His skin was clammy. His belly heaved. I leaned closer and felt his breath, sour and sick, on my cheek. If he vomited, I would kill him.

"Take it," he whispered. "Take it all."

Of course I did so.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

I took it all.

A strong arm levered me to my feet.

"Control yourself," Sarevok said in my ear. "You're upsetting the paladin." I reeled against him. I felt like I was drunk. Power-drunk, blood-drunk. My body felt more right than it had ever felt. The world was as sharp and bright as a newly cut diamond. I could smell the fear like a sickness in Balthazar's sweat. I heard the rustle of the links in Anomen's chain shirt when he took a breath. Keldorn had his hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. As I watched, his pupils contracted as if to shut out what he saw.

Upsetting the paladin. Hah. Did he think I had any real choice in this? I wanted to reassure him and all of my companions who stood and watched me with concerned eyes. This wasn't like before, in Bodhi's maze, when my soul was in shreds and the Slayer took me by storm and overrode my will. This wasn't like before. Balthazar's power slotted into me like I'd slid a weapon into a sheath. I was in control.

Balthazar stood. He moved like an old man. He looked at me but did not meet my eyes.

"I must—" He shook his head, turned his back and walked toward the hall that led to the bedchambers.

"Let him go," Sarevok said. I certainly hadn't planned to stop him. My head turned to my sister. I could see the taint swirl beneath her skin like a slow current in a murky stream.

"If you think I'm going to kneel for you, you're madder than Cyric," Imoen said. She gave me her cocky expression but I saw past her bravado. I saw her chest move with rapid shallow breaths.

"I know." My lips moved in a smile. My face felt like a mask. Her face looked like a mask. "Are you ready?"

"Until just now I was looking forward to this happening. Do something nasty to me and I swear I'll make you pay." I took a step closer. She looked up at me. "Are you getting taller?"

I shook my head and smiled my false smile. "Well?"

"All right, all right, just do it."

I reached out my hand. She took it. Her delicate, clever fingers were cold. I felt the taint within her. I called it to me. I had more control this time. I don't know why—maybe because I cared for her, maybe because her taint wasn't so temptingly strong, maybe because I'd sated myself on Balthazar.

Like him, she turned pale. She opened her mouth and closed it again. The taint had never been as strong in her nor as deeply enmeshed. I don't know why. Maybe her soul was stronger than mine. The deed done, I released her hand.

"Do you feel any different?" I asked. Part of me was me—talking, listening and asking questions like a concerned sister. Part of me was somewhere else. I might not be taller but I was bigger. I felt vast, like a cloud drifting over the stars in the night sky. Like a tree, with branches that stretched up to the sun and roots that dug down to the treasures hidden under the earth.

"Yes. I don't know. When you've had a fever and the fever's gone and you feel so weak and strange—it's like that. Except more horrid. I think I need to go lie down for awhile." She looked at Sarevok. "You know better than anyone. Will this get better?"

His lips tightened. "You become accustomed to being less than you were."

"Less?"

"And more."

Anomen and Jaheira exchanged glances. Anomen came closer. His hand reached out to touch me. Sarevok stepped between us. He took my arm and turned me.

"We should all rest," he said. "Make what preparations you think necessary. Tomorrow we assault the Throne of Blood." He led me away like I was blind or helpless.

_Am I immortal? Is this how it feels to be a god?_

**You are no god. You are not invulnerable but while you wear the mantle of my power, you will be hard to kill. **

"You can die, fool, and do not forget that," Sarevok said. I must have spoken out loud. He shut the bedroom door behind him and barred it as well.

"Balthazar is no danger to us now."

"There are other dangers here." He frowned when he looked into my eyes. "Do not forget who you are."

"What does that mean? I'm fine."

"I do not know if I speak to you or to Bhaal."

"His voice seems muffled now. Weaker. I thought it would be different."

"How?"

"I thought He'd be taking over. Instead, I feel like I can push Him out of my head." Which was good because I had thoughts I did not want to share with my dead sire.

Sarevok did not look particularly reassured. "I fear He has more sway over you than you know. With Balthazar, you were not yourself."

"I don't want to talk about Balthazar."

He looked into my eyes a long moment. "I hope you remember the words we had earlier."

"Do you doubt my word?"

He let out a breath. "You should rest. Tomorrow will bring—what it brings."

"I'm not tired." I stretched my back. "I don't think I'll ever be tired again." I stepped closer and snaked one arm around his neck. "However, if you feel the need to lie down—"

"Keeta. There are things we must say. We must talk about after." I removed my arm. He took my hand as I tried to pull away. "I know you wish to avoid this but we have very little time left."

_And you're going to spend it upsetting me._ I knew better than to speak though. It was clear he was determined to have his say.

"I do not want you to return to Amn afterward. I do not trust the knights of the Order."

"I did nothing wrong at Saradush."

"Do you think that matters?"

"Anomen won't let them find me guilty for something I didn't do."

"Anomen, I am convinced, would break his vows to the Order if that was required for your protection. That might not be enough. You might be willing to put your life in his hands but I am not willing for you to do so."

I knew he was going to be mad about me pulling Anomen into the challenge room. "About the Ravager—"

He gave me one of his looks. "You interrupt. Keldorn will place his duty to the Order above any personal considerations. You know this. Do not return to Athkatla. I do not trust the Order to deal honestly with you."

"They're paladins."

"They are as subject to politics and self-delusion as any men. And who is to say their gods won't order your death? Imoen will help you slip away from them. I have already spoken to her. I believe Jaheira will help you as well. Do not return to Amn and do not remain in Tethyr."

"What do you suggest? Baldur's Gate?"

He ignored my mild sarcasm. "Go where your face is unknown. Waterdeep or Neverwinter, perhaps. Before too many months, travel will be more difficult in your condition. Find a safe haven quickly. When the threat of Bhaal's return is gone, the search for scapegoats will intensify. Disappear."

"Maybe Balthazar will shelter me in his monastery. I expect he's real excited about being an uncle."

"Make your jests but remember my words."

"So you think we'll win."

"Where is the purpose in planning for defeat?"

"You have never done so, have you?" Except now. His face was calm and remote, reminding me of nothing so much as our brother Balthazar. He had accepted his death. I wanted to grind my teeth together. "Damn it, there _has_ to be a better way out of this. The gods have brought us this far."

"Always for their purposes; never for ours. You haven't forgotten that, have you?"

"If I have to shake the heavens—"

He put his finger to my lips. "Do not say it." He leaned forward and kissed me.

Fine. I wouldn't say it. But it was impossible for me to share his pessimism, not while the blood of a god bubbled in my veins bright and heady like sparkling wine.

**My power is not yours to use as you will.**

_Get out of my head. _

Sarevok took me by the elbows, pulled me close. I put my arms around his waist and looked up. His face, so serious; his eyes, so dark, the light gone from them.

"'Tis an irony that I must leave my life when I have come to value it as never before. Even now, I cannot bend knee to the gods. If I could, if faith could buy us another hour, another day, you know I would do so. More than anything, I want you to have your life back, free of the curse of our father, free of the machinations of power." His arms tightened. "There has never been tenderness in my life. Even now, the words will not come."

I couldn't look into his face any longer. My head pressed into his shoulder.

"I don't need words." My throat burned. I couldn't swallow. "Sarevok."

"I know you want to fight the destiny we have been given. Don't."

"What do you expect me to do? You do not want me to ascend to godhood. You don't want me to resurrect Bhaal. What do you expect me to do?"

"I am not certain. The Solar's words—they were not what I expected."

"What do you know that I don't?"

He took no advantage of that straight line. "I know Lathander touched you. That gives me hope that for you, there may be another choice." He laid his hand on my belly. "Surely this life within you was given as a sign of hope. It is not rational to hope." His fingers traced circles against my belly. "And yet this tells me your god has not advised you to despair. Do not despair, Keeta."

Do not despair? "Take your own advice, Sarevok."

* * *

Imoen was alone in the common room with a full plate of food. I could neither see nor hear Cespenar. If he meant to avoid me, so be it.

"You loading up your magic bag?" she asked when she saw I had it over my shoulder. "I've got a pile of stuff you can carry for me."

I figured she did. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Sure. Hungry." The thought of food didn't repulse me but I felt no hunger at all. "Sit down," she continued. "I got a few things to say." I sat. She eyed me. "I still feel the spiky jabs of power coming off you," she said. "Funny. I thought that would go away, now that I'm de-Bhaaled. Doesn't hurt like it did, though. Did you know your eyes glow all the time now? Like Sarevok's did?"I blinked. "I didn't think so. Look. Can I take Cespenar and run off with him? Somewhere far, far away?" I blinked again. "I'm kidding. I've got to see how this comes out."

"That's good because I need you."

"You sure do. I guess I need to apologize about the whole monastery ambush thing. I didn't expect that."

"I did."

"Yeah. Libet really didn't know about it though. She was worried about Balthazar. Same as we're worried about you."

"She might not have known about it ahead of time but she didn't hold back once Balthazar gave the signal. If she had got that spell off she would have killed us. Don't you think?"

"Probably. In the end, she stuck by him. Just like I'm sticking by you. So don't go crazy and kill me, okay?"

"I'll try not to."

"But listen, this is important. Please don't bring Bhaal back. I know you think you have to do it. Don't. Just don't."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't try to be cagy with me. You don't have the face for it. I know you want to save Sarevok. Have you thought about what will happen if you bring Bhaal back? You think the Bhaalspawn war was bad? What do you think the war between Bhaal and Cyric will be like?"

"That will be for the gods to decide. We'll be out of it."

"Bufflehead, we'll be right in the middle. Bhaal's tricking you. He's got to be. Even if He keeps Sarevok from dying now, how long do you think he, or any of us, will survive the next war?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know and you haven't thought. Cyric can't interfere—now. But don't you think he's been getting ready for whatever happens next? He's going to fight whoever ends up with Bhaal's power. Why do you think Melissan had the Five gather armies? Just to tear up the Sword Coast? She knows she's going to have to take on Cyric and his faithful as soon as she gets rid of us."

"She's not going to get rid of us because I'm going to kill her."

"What if you didn't?"

"Didn't kill her? It's her or me. Didn't you listen to the Solar?"

"What if you gave her the power? She wants to be a goddess—well, let her."

"I won't—I can't do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"Does it matter? That's not an option." Imoen frowned at me. "How would we be any better off?"

"I've had Bhaal in my head. Don't bring Him back."

"If you'd had Amelyssan the Black-hearted in your head, you might feel the same about her."

She paused. She took her napkin from her lap, folded it, and set it next to her plate. "I hate to say it but you might be right."

* * *

After I picked up Imoen's treasures, I knocked on the door of the room Anomen shared with Keldorn. I knew he'd have something for me and he didn't disappoint. He'd already set out the armor and weapons he needed and that left a respectable pile of spare equipment. He helped me pack up his chain shirt and the shields and other gear he did not plan to use.

"Perhaps this is foolish but I hate the thought of abandoning anything of use," he said. That didn't seem foolish to me. I'd never acquired the lavish throwaway habits of the rich and he'd been poor so long he'd forgotten them.

"What am I forgetting?" I asked him, once his gear was stowed. "What are we going to need?"

"Food? Water? Bandages?"

I grimaced. I'd forgotten about food. And water. "I suppose we should plan for a lunch break in the middle of the fight."

"We don't know how long this fight will take. More than that, who can say where we'll end up when it's over?"

"Who indeed? You seem calm about this."

"My life is in Helm's hands, as always." He spread his own hands. "What comes, comes."

"So simple."

"What we move towards—your destiny—it is beyond what most mortals will ever experience. There is nothing any of us can do to prepare ourselves, nothing beyond what has already been done. All we can do now is move forward. And so I am calm. But I will tell you this, Keeta. I support you with all my heart and all my might. With all that I have, I stand with you."

"No matter what I do?"

"You will do your best."

"I wish I felt so certain."

"I wish I had the words to set your mind at ease."

"I don't think any words could do so."

I read both the impulse and the hesitation in his face so I took the initiative. I put my arms around him. For a long moment I stood in his embrace and felt his slow steady heartbeat against my own chest. I stepped away and smiled—a real smile, and not just a crack in a frozen mask. After all we'd gone through together, was there any need for further words between us?


	47. Out of Time

**Ch. 47…Out of Time**

I clanked my way to breakfast in my second-best plate. Cespenar had avoided me all evening and all morning and there had been no time to come up with anything better. I had decided against wearing Bhaal's somber surcoat over my mismatched armor, since Sarevok told me it would irritate my allies and do nothing to impress my foe.

I was mildly surprised to see Balthazar and Imoen with their heads together, but they weren't discussing me or their lack of Bhaal powers, they were talking magic.

"I am aware Libet taught you the Time Stop spell," Balthazar said. He didn't look good. Neither did Imoen. I wondered if either of them had slept. I hadn't slept much either but I felt great. Every nerve popped and sizzled with energy. I felt like I could bend horseshoes with my bare hands.

"Yep. And she was nice enough to tell me that it doesn't work on you. Not sure if that was a warning or just a hint."

"She said that, did she?"

"Yep. So why is that? It's not the Bhaal juice, is it? Because Keeta and I have both been hit with time stops and they worked just dandy on us. Is it because you are some kind of super monk?"

His lips quirked down. Was that a smile? If so, he needed to practice more, he wasn't doing it right. "Something like that."

"I don't suppose you can teach me?" Imoen said.

"Not in the time we have left to us. Knowing what you do, I advise you to use this spell at an opportune moment for us both."

"Got it," Imoen said. "I hope so anyway 'cause I only get one shot at it. It's a big big spell and I can only pull it off once. I memorized it last night and it makes my head feel all stretched out." She picked at her food. "So how are you liking being free of the taint? Feels good, does it?"

Balthazar grunted.

"Yeah," said Imoen. "I feel that way myself. Never thought I'd miss it. But it feels damned strange."

"You should be aware that Melissan is a powerful mage and strongly resistant to magic."

"Sarevok was resistant like that too, back before he got whacked the first time. I hear you are too. Very irritating."

"Instead of targeting her with spells, you should use your power to give the rest of us an advantage in battle."

"You know, if you had told me this last night when I was preparing my spells, it would have been a lot more helpful and timely, Balthazar." She gave him one of her looks. "We are working as a team, you know."

"I am aware."

"Really? Prove it, brother."

* * *

As we gathered at the portal, I thought about giving a rallying speech. I had no idea what to say. Whether we lived or died, it would seem we were at the end of things. I could see that knowledge on everyone's grim face.

**The end of things—or the beginning.**

_Don't you start with me, Bhaal. _He said no more but I could feel his presence in the back of my mind, alert and energized.

The end of things, the end of things. I met Sarevok's eyes. His face was set and expressionless, his eyes hooded and thoughtful. I knew his sword, like mine, was honed to the keenest edge; I had seen to it myself. What else could we do to prepare? We had to prevail. We must prevail. But I saw no eagerness for battle on his face, only harsh determination.

I thought Cespenar would come to say goodbye but I didn't see him. I guess it was the end of his time as well. If I died, I supposed the pocket plane would cease to exist. Maybe he'd sign on with Melissan. Maybe he'd find a new god to serve or maybe he would finally be free of all servitude.

I still thought he'd say goodbye.

I stepped through the gate.

* * *

She was waiting.

Gone was the demure Lady Melissan. Well, demure might be a stretch. She might have pretended to be nice and helpful but her arrogance had always peeped out. And speaking of stretch, Amelyssan the Black-Hearted had grown to an intimidating height, taller than me, taller than Sarevok even. Don't ask me how. I hadn't grown. It didn't seem fair.

I could feel Bhaal's power in my mind, sharp and attentive.

She watched with hard eyes as I strode towards her. Mist swirled around my feet. She leaned on a wicked spear as tall as Sarevok and every bit as sharp. A long dagger rode on one hip, with a bone hilt that looked nightmarishly familiar. It looked exactly like the unholy daggers that had menaced me when Balthazar fought the Ravager.

Amelyssan gave me a sahuagin grin, full of teeth and hunger.

"So, Keeta of Candlekeep, you have finally found your way here, to your father's throne."

"I've always wondered why he settled here in the Abyss. Were the Hells too crowded or what?"

"The Abyss is full of opportunity. There are many powerful beings here in need of leadership, and they are drawn to the power here in the Throne of Bhaal—my power. You will likely meet them soon enough."

I just bet. Demons to kill, what fun.

"Unless you wish to surrender to me now. But I see by your face, you are here to fight."

"Yes," I said. "I'm here to fight."

I'm not sure what I had expected of the Throne of Bhaal. A plane like the pocket plane grown large, I supposed, with demonic statues, strange screams and that certain random grittiness I associated with the Abyss. Certainly I had not expected this featureless mist, gray underfoot, gray high above, and off at a distance I could not judge without landmarks, a shimmering light like a great fountain of star-shine. Even from here I heard a sea roar like breakers on a cliff but I wasn't sure if I heard the sound with my ears or in my head. What is that, I wondered, and Bhaal answered.

**It is the Mana Forge. That is the source of power that Amelyssan steals—my essence, taken from my slain children.**

Nice.

Amelyssan's eyes turned to Balthazar. "So you still live, monk." Her voice dripped contempt. "When my spies reported you were not in Amkethran, I assumed Keeta had killed you."

"Your spies?" Balthazar asked. He did not look well. His face was a hollowed out skull, with shadows under his eyes and his skin stretched tight.

"Saemon Havarian, no doubt," Jaheira muttered. "Why does that man still live?"

"But I see Keeta has eviscerated you instead," Amelyssan said. "How naughty of Bhaal to teach her that trick. Only his most favored priestess was to know his secrets. Did she mean to be merciful, do you think? Are you grateful, Balthazar? Does your life mean that much to you?" She laughed. "Do you think I will spare it?"

"I have nothing to say to you, Amelyssan the Black-Hearted."

"So be it. All I wish to hear from you is your last scream when I send your soul to join your dead father." She turned back to me. "And do you have nothing to say to me? Why are you here?"

"To stop you."

"To take what is mine, you mean. Do you truly believe that is possible? I see your father's power roiling through you, but it sits uneasy there, does it not? I am meant to be a god—you never were. I think you know that. I will take what is mine. I will be the Lady of Murder. None of you will stand in my way. This place is mine to rule as I wish."

**She has broken her vows to me.** **She has stolen what is mine. She has—twined it into her very soul.**

_What does that mean?_

**She has leeched my essence to gain a sort of immortality.**

_Does that mean I can't kill her?_

**Even a god can die. But she will be hard to kill. Perhaps she can only die by your hand with my power behind your sword arm.**

_Let's get to it then._

"Thief," I said. "Oath breaker."

Amelyssan gave me a semi-amused look. "Are those your words or my dead master's? I see him in your eyes."

I wanted to bite my tongue. _Stop it, Bhaal!_ "Does it matter?"

"Come, my dead lord, you must see how this contest must end. This mewling child of yours is not worthy to bear your power. She will not use it in any way acceptable to you. You know that I will. Accept that your time is done and that your High Matriarch must take your place."

Bhaal was silent within me. I had my sword in my hand and wasn't sure when that had happened. In the back corner of my brain not occupied with dead gods and taunting ex-priests, I had been mulling over that spear of Amelyssan's. The choice of weapon tells much of its wielder. It was plain and unornamented and the grip was worn. It had a crossbar, like hunters use to keep a boar from running up its length and getting in your face. A strange choice of weapon and I figured it like this: Amelyssan was no warrior. A murderer, sure, but no warrior. She liked to keep her prey out of arm's reach. And she thought that pig sticker would let her do that.

Now here's what I see as the main difference between a warrior and a murderer: a warrior expects to get hurt. We may not love pain but we're used to it, we expect injuries and to what extent we can, we plan for them. We deal with pain and go on.

And Amelyssan may have been Bhaal's High Matriarch, whatever that meant, but with Bhaal dead I was guessing she (like Nyalee) had lost her priestly powers. And I doubted that one of Bhaal's priests ever ran much to the healing arts. Nor did I think she'd been a warrior priest like Anomen. So I decided to treat her like I'd treat any enemy mage: run her down and hit her hard.

I quick-stepped towards Amelyssan, wanting to get inside the reach of that long but surely unwieldy spear. But she was quicker and her mouth moved in what proved to be a summoning spell. Darkness rose up in the room and from that gloom sprang four creatures—Slayers, or a sort of dark shadowy Slayers. She retreated further and again leaned on her spear, as if to watch an entertainment. I wasn't having that. I pushed past the nearest Slayer shade and in passing, gave it a whack that severed a clawed arm. I ran towards her. With the power flooding through me I felt as fleet as a deer—a big burly deer. As I thundered towards her, she raised her spear to block my sword. Error! My blade swept the spear away—I felt her grip weaken, I almost had it out of her hands—and in the same motion, I cut into her side. She wore no armor but only a padded coat. I should have cut her in half but my blade rang like I'd hit marble. Curse all mages and their stoneskin protections.

I'd just have to wear them down.

I gave her a few more whacks and felt the protections start to soften. She realized her spear was a hindrance. She let it fall to the ground. I saw her lips move and I didn't need Anomen's warning shout behind me. I too dropped my weapon and sprang. Before she could finish her spell, I was all over her like a wet cloak in a squall. Amelyssan was no brawler, that's for sure, and I pulled out half the dirty fighting tricks I knew. My heavy boots raked her shins, I stomped her feet, punched her ribs, slammed my armored head into her face. She reeled back. Blood poured from her broken nose. She stared at me with shocked eyes. Her hands rose, but not to fight or even to fend me off, alas. She spat out a spell and gated away.

I laughed.

**She goes to replenish herself with my power, fool. She will return stronger than ever.**

The Slayer shadows disappeared when she did. I scooped up my sword and took a moment to shear through the shaft of her spear. I'm sure she had other weapons but it was a small satisfaction nonetheless. We took quick stock of each other, no serious injuries. Sarevok gave me a look but no lecture. I guess he realized, as I did, that there was no holding back now.

"Bhaal says—" but I was interrupted by a shriek of air and a gust of wind that came from nowhere—or everywhere—and almost had me off my feet. "What the hells?"

Jaheira grabbed my arm. "An elemental!" she yelled in my ear. "The plane of Air." I couldn't see it but I could sure feel its arrival. And then there was another screaming roar that I felt all through my bones and the wind storm turned icy. A huge hairy beast rose out of the mist, with shaggy white fur and long arms—no, not arms. Tentacles.

Yuck.

"It's a yeti," Imoen yelled.

"It is not," Jaheira replied. The wind whipped her hair as she turned into it and shouted. "Yan-C-Bin, prince of air! Cryonax, prince of ice! What brings you here?"

"Your death," said the wind. Its voice was precise and for some strange reason I thought of the fussy old scholars at Candlekeep. All I could see was two glowing eyes floating nearby. I had my sword in my hand, but how do you strike the wind? When you couldn't even see it?

And yet—I could feel the stress in the plane, a pressure on the chaos around us, almost like a pressure on my ear drums.

**The elemental princes will rip open a gate to their planes. Their minions will pour through.**

An army of elementals, yes, that made sense. _Can I stop them?_

**My power rules the Throne of Blood**.

Feeling like a fool, I thought: Stay closed, walls. Keep them out.

**It is not your thoughts but your will that must be used.**

And not for the first time, I wondered why in the Nine Hells such power should come to me when I had not the faintest clue how to use it. But I knew one thing: I didn't want an army of elementals swarming in. I shut my mind against the thought. I pictured the elementals baffled, angry, and banging on a gate that would not open. _You may not come_.

The yeti creature—the prince of ice, I supposed—turned his shaggy head towards me. Baleful eyes glittered through dirty fur. But Jaheira's sharp voice drew its attention back. She stood rigid, masterful.

"You serve Amelyssan? Why?" Jaheira asked.

"Why not?" growled the yeti creature. Cryonax. Would steel snap when it struck that bitter cold? I thought my enchantments would probably hold. "Much power will come our way."

"She has already betrayed her god and all her other allies. And she calls you here now, fearing her own defeat. What makes you think you will not be betrayed in turn?" Jaheira asked.

The wind hissed.

"Know that we have already defeated Olhydra, the prince of water, Ogremoch, the prince of earth, and Imix, the prince of fire."

"You won't defeat us!" the wind said.

"Know that these princes are now mine to call!" Jaheira shouted. I kept the surprise off my face. They were? I had seen Jaheira summon elementals, but elemental princes? And yet—she knew their names. "And when we defeat you, you too shall serve me."

"Never!"

"Amelyssan is no god," Jaheira said. "She has lured you here with false promises. You would be foolish to fall here now, only to buy her time. Time that will avail her little for we shall defeat her next."

The wind grew silent. The yeti turned towards the glowing eyes. A long tense moment passed.

"We withdraw," the yeti growled. "We wait and see. And if you have lied to us, we will come for you, druidess."

She nodded. With a final shriek that made Imoen put her hands over her ears, the wind and the cold were gone. I looked at Jaheira. She grinned at me but held up one hand so I could see it was shaking.

"I could kiss you," I said.

"Later." She gave me one of her looks. "If we live."

"I could kiss you too," Imoen said. "I can't—I really can't—believe you talked those guys down."

"Why not?" Jaheira said. "Have you not learned this of evil? True evil will save its own skin, over all else. Evil values its life over its word or its allies. Have you not seen this over and over?" She cast a look at Sarevok. "And these evil princes fight amongst themselves. Did you not sense how uneasy they became when I threatened to summon their peers? How Amelyssan convinced these ancient enemies to work together is a mystery."

"I would think them incapable of working together," Keldorn said.

Jaheira shrugged. "I wonder what they were promised."

* * *

I figured Amelyssan would be pretty pissed to lose her allies. I figured right. I felt a warning tingle in my feet and then the ground opened up and several demons clawed their way out. Glabrezu, demons the size of a giant with way too many arms and way too many teeth. Behind them came Amelyssan, with more of her shadowy Slayer toys. She gave Jaheira an ugly look and the demons, maybe reading her mind, swarmed towards her. I ran in, swinging, and from the corner of my eye I saw Imoen give Balthazar a hand signal. But I didn't have time to figure out what they were up to.

One of the demons tried to catch Jaheira in its pincers. She roared into her fire elemental shape. Ah, the smell of burning demon, like an infernal pig roast. Sarevok was near my back, and our swords made a circle of steel. Anomen guarded Imoen. Keldorn's face was set in concentration but without the grim expression he wore when fighting men—he felt no regrets or compassion for demon kind.

I didn't see Balthazar. Anywhere. I lopped a singed and blackened pincer arm off the glabrezu closest to Jaheira. It hit the ground with a squishy thud. And then one of the other demons shouted something in a language I didn't know.

**His tongue is Abyssal. He warns Amelyssan.**

_Warns her of what? _As quick as my thought, I saw Balthazar appear out of nothingness behind Amelyssan. His fist hit her hard enough to rock her head back. He followed that up with a round house kick that should have sent her flying. But, warned, she had time to brace herself. She merely staggered back then screamed out a spell. There was a flash of light and a whirring, clicking sound as hundreds of animated blades—the bone blades of Bhaal—appeared in a deadly circle a spear's length around her.

Balthazar was like meat in a sausage grinder.

Blood flew. Imoen screamed. The blades whirled and sliced. Balthazar was held up by the strength of their blows and then he fell back in a bloody heap. Was he dead? I couldn't tell. I'd seen him hurt perhaps as badly by the Ravager but he still had the taint then.

"Fool," Amelyssan cried. "Without Bhaal's essence, do you think you can hurt me?" Near me, Jaheira surged forward in indecision. I wasn't sure if she could heal in her elemental form. But it didn't matter. Imoen finished her spell.

Time stopped.

"Oh gods!" Imoen cried. "Heal yourself, Balthazar." And she began chanting another spell.

Time had stopped. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't blink. But somehow I could see and hear.

**I am a god within you. Time may hold your mortal body but it cannot hold me.**

Amelyssan laughed and pointed to Imoen. "Foolish girl, your spells cannot touch me. I am a living goddess!" The whirling blades winked into nothingness. Amelyssan stepped across Balthazar's body and strode towards my sister. Imoen's eyes were wide and frightened but her hands, tracing the pattern of a spell, didn't falter. She wasn't quick enough. Before she could finish her spell, Amelyssan swatted her with a casual backhand that sent her to the ground.

There was nothing I could do. I was caught in time and I could feel Bhaal's fear. Hells, my own fear overwhelmed me. I was helpless in the hands of one without mercy.

"I'll deal with you later, mageling." She came to me. She was taller than ever and towered over me. "I'll deal with _you_ now." She laughed again. She plucked my sword from my hands and cast it aside.

Oh, gods. I've failed. We've failed. Amelyssan would take my taint and then no one would be able to stop her. First she would kill my friends and then—gods know what. The Lady of Murder would be loosed on the Realms. Nothing I could do, nothing I could do. I strained to move with everything I had. I couldn't even blink.

"I see you there, my Lord of Murder, lurking behind your daughter's eyes. So you are aware, are you? All the better. You have served me well, Keeta Bhaalspawn, unknowingly but well. You have gathered up Bhaal's essence for me and for that service, I reward you with a swift death." She drew her bone dagger. "Do you remember this blade, my Lord Bhaal? Long ago you gave it to me and bade me use it well. And I have. So many I killed in your name. And now, my dead lord, you may have your blade back. I need it no longer."

And with that, she plunged her dagger deep into my eye. And into my brain.

**NO!**

Bhaal's essence flooded out of me in a soundless golden explosion that sent Amelyssan flying. And sent me flying, backwards, out of the Throne of Bhaal. I'd been caught in time but now I left it. Out of the light, out of time, out of life, out of everything.

I died.

I died.

I died.


	48. A Message from the Grave

_Author's Note: I have completely revised this story, and deleted quite a few chapters. If you just want to read the new ending, it starts at Ch 47. Sorry for any confusion this causes._

**Ch. 48…A Message from the Grave**

**I have you, child.**

I opened my eyes. Eyes. I blinked my eyes and found I had two, one more than I expected. Mostly I could see light, a bright golden light that washed me in a healing wave. Someone stood in that light. Or _was_ that light. Or maybe wore that light as a garment.

"You are not Bhaal."

**You know who I am.**

I guess I did at that. "Lathander." I sighed. "Well. I guess it's all over now. I'm sorry I didn't do better."

**You did well enough.**

I stretched a little. My eye itched. I started to rub it but I still had my gauntlets on. I felt an ache in my back. And one of my greave straps was too tight.

"You know," I said slowly. "I don't feel all that dead. I thought death would be different."

Lathander laughed. **You are not dead**.

I stared. "Are you sure?" Stupid question, of course He was sure. "And Sarevok—does he live? Did he survive whatever happened to me?"

"At this moment, he lives."

"But the taint is gone. I saw it." The god, or his avatar I suppose, smiled. "I don't understand." A beat, while He looked at me. I forced my brain to try to work. "Was it the Time Stop?"

**The taint, the immortal essence of Bhaal, left you with the killing stroke. But your body could not die until the spell ended and so your soul remained with your body. Before the spell ended, I plucked you from death's embrace, so to speak.**

"And healed me." He nodded. "I thought You couldn't interfere in the Bhaalspawn business."

**Aye, but you are out of that now, are you not? And the child you carry, touched by gods both evil and good, is of interest to Us. And so I saved him**.

"You saved him—my son. And I came along for the ride, is that right?" There was a twinkle in His eye. "Tricky, tricky," I said. "You made me pregnant on purpose? Is that it? Did You know this would happen? Was Sarevok right? Did You plan this all along?" The twinkle deepened. "I think You did. I think You cheated!"

**That is for Ao to decide.**

Yeah, I just bet. I understood Sarevok's paranoia that the gods were conspiring against us, better than ever. They were. Maybe they always had been. For how far back?

"Not that I'm complaining, exactly. I'm not going to tattle." I looked around me. Where the hells was I, anyway? There was nothing celestial looking here. In fact, what I could see was dismally familiar.

"I'm back in the cocoon plane, aren't I?"

**You are but a shadow's depth away from the Throne of Bhaal.**

Great. And the place had shrunk, too, it was a cocoon indeed. Not a pocket plane, more like a thimble plane. All of our careful changes were gone. In fact, I saw no corridors, no doors, and certainly no portal.

"I have to go back."

Lathander tilted his head a bit. **That is your wish? I can set you anywhere in the Realms. Anywhere but the Throne of Bhaal. As you say, I cannot interfere in the Bhaalspawn business.**

"Of course it is my wish! My friends are there! And I need a weapon." I gave him a speculative look. "Maybe You could loan me something?"

**You wish a holy weapon?**

"I sure do!"

**You have earned a boon, child, but I am still forbidden to interfere in the contest for Bhaal's essence.**

"I thought Amelyssan had it all now."

**She has not yet absorbed the essence you carried.**

"Then there is time! There is still a chance!" Lathander said nothing. "I have to get back there! Now!"

**I cannot help you.** I followed his gaze down, to the ground. Bhaal's dagger lay by my feet, the blade all black and sticky with blood and gunk. My blood and gunk. Yuck. I picked it up. I'd rather have a holy weapon but I supposed an unholy one would have to do.

**You have made your choice then?**

"Choice? What choice? You think I'm going to let you plop me down in Maztica or some damned place while Sarevok and my friends are fighting for their lives? You know me better than that."

**So be it. Farewell, my child. I wish you well.**

And like that, He was gone. And I was alone. Alone in a room with no exits. At least it wasn't dark. Lathander's golden light remained and I realized it was coming from me. My armor glowed with the soft golden light of the dawning sun. He hadn't given me a weapon but He had given me something. Everything about me glowed except for Bhaal's dagger, which seemed charred and blackened.

Open, I commanded the walls around me. Nothing happened. Once I could have formed the wild chaos of this place, or so I had been told. But my power over chaos was gone. "Open!" I screamed. And nothing happened. I wanted to pound my head on the wall—maybe I could pulverize my way out. I raised the dagger clutched in my fist. Maybe this blade could cut me a way out. But the dagger seemed to cry out in my hand when I slammed it into the rock, striking sparks and nothing more. I pounded the wall with my other fist. "No, no, no!"

Gods damn it all, was I going to be left here to die? While my friends died? If Sarevok died, would I feel it? Were we still linked? I had to know what was happening. I had to know. I HAD TO KNOW! I HAD TO GO!

"I CAN'T STAY HERE!" The walls rang with my screams. I heard them echo in my ears. And then I heard—

Something else.

I heard the scrape of tiny claws. I looked wildly around but saw nothing. Or—wait—had that rat hole near the floor been there all along? A tiny head poked out.

"Cespenar?"

"Master!" He crawled out. He shook out his wings and then launched himself at me. I thrust out a gloved hand and he landed on my wrist. He was heavier than he looked, heavy as a sword, which I did not have. Cespenar peered up at my face. "Master?" His huge eyes whirred with confusion. "Is it—it is you? Is it?"

"Bhaal's essence was taken from me," I said. "I need your help."

"Taken?" His claws tightened. "Does this mean—you are not the master now?"

"I suppose it does." Oh gods. If he deserted me—

"Where is the master now?"

"We're still fighting that out." He looked at Bhaal's blade, naked in my hand. His wings flapped twice in agitated recognition.

"The Bright One was here. I hid from Him."

"The Bright One? Lathander? Yeah. I'm not surprised you hid."

"Was afraid He might squash me."

"I don't think He would have."

"Not on purpose maybe. Big ones don't always see us little ones. Better to stay out of their way. Too easy to get squashed."

"Cespenar, you've said a mouthful."

Cespenar peered up at me. "You have nasty all over your face."

I grimaced. "That doesn't surprise me either." I've popped enough eyeballs in my time to know how that looks. Yuck. Not like there was much I could do about it unless Cespenar wanted to raid the Abyss to bring me a washcloth and a basin. "The, hmm, Bright One brought me here. But now I have to go back to the Throne of Blood. And I am going to kill the one who stole the Master from me." I looked at the rat hole and then stared him straight in the eyes. I spoke with a lot more confidence than I felt. "And here is what you are going to do. You're going to make me a path."

* * *

I crawled through the enlarged rat hole, armor scraping on all sides. I'd thrust Bhaal's dagger in my weapons belt for safe keeping. I needed both hands to pull myself through the narrow passage.

"Here, Master," Cespenar whispered in my ear. He crawled over my shoulder and across my back to get behind me. I worked my way forward and my right hand felt a huge gap in the floor. I heard battle—demon screams, I'd know them anywhere—but I could see nothing. The sounds came from below. My armor still glowed with Lathander's light but all I could see ahead was a white fog. I thrust my face into the hole. Nothing.

"What the hells! You're dropping me in through the ceiling? How am I supposed to get down there?"

"Fly?" Now I knew why Cespenar had scuttled out of my reach. Fly. Right. "Sheesh, at least make me a little more room so I can go down feet first."

Why the hells hadn't I asked Cespenar for a sword? I bet he had one squirreled away somewhere. I didn't think about it until I was falling through space. All I had was this damned dagger. Literally damned. Even touching it made me feel sick.

The good thing about dropping in from the ceiling is that no one expects it. I fell through the mist and into the large chamber of the Throne of Bhaal. I landed almost on top of a naked succubus. Her gigantic breasts bobbled when she jerked in shock. She gave a small cry and put her hands over her eyes. Guess she didn't like Lathander's light, heh heh. I punched her in the jaw with all my weight behind my mailed fist. She fell and didn't get up. I checked my weapon belt. The dagger was still there. Good.

I'm not sure how long I'd been gone but the situation had not improved. Far from it. Fast as I could, my eyes scanned the room. I did not feel the exhilaration of battle. I felt calm, strangely calm. Was this something Lathander had done to me? Keldorn, with Imoen behind him, struck at a winged creature—a Solar. Gods, could Solars be evil? It, or rather she, parried the Holy Avenger with her own dark blade. A mass of demons formed a ring around my remaining companions. Balthazar, in torn and bloody robes was on his feet. Jaheira's face was a mask of blood but her staff flicked out to land a harsh blow on a marilith trying to edge forward. Anomen was on one knee and he panted for breath. He had dropped his shield and his shield arm hung limp at his side. Sarevok stood over him. He saw me.

Did he recognize me? At first he just stared. I wanted to say something, anything, but I didn't even wave for my eyes had finally found what they sought. Amelyssan the Black-Hearted.

While her demons fought for her, Amelyssan basked in a glittering fountain. Her face was turned toward the ceiling and her eyes were closed in ecstasy as her soul devoured Bhaal's essence. I turned my back on my friends to run toward her. She wasn't aware of my approach until I was a spear's length away. Then her eyes snapped open.

"You!"

"Me," I agreed.

"Impossible! You are dead! You can't be here."

"Perhaps I am a vengeful ghost."

"Then I will send you back to the Hells!" She reached for the blade she no longer wore. It was in my hand. I stepped into the fountain of energy and it flowed over me, around me but did not touch me. I felt nothing.

She took a step backward. I could practically see her gather her scattered wits and she began to shape a spell. And I was pretty sure I knew what spell. It was the same spell that had made mincemeat out of Balthazar. As the globe of bone blades sprang into being, I leapt. Towards her. I stepped on her toes. I heard the clatter of blades against my back plate but they came no closer, perhaps afraid of cutting their own mistress.

Or maybe they were repelled by Bhaal's blade, now held low at my side. Amelyssan took another step back but I followed her. I grabbed the front of her tunic. It felt like cloth. Not stone. Cloth. I felt my lip twist in a grin. Gods, how safe she felt, with her swarm of demons and her fountain of power to heal and sustain her. Had someone taken her protections down or had she let them drop in complacency?

"You dare touch me! I am a goddess! And you—you are a dead thing, a nothing." She towered over me. Her lips tightened with wrath. "You are dead—dead like Bhaal."

"The dead speak here, Amelyssan, but you cannot hear them. You don't hear the murdered souls cry out in pain. And you cannot hear Bhaal," I said. "But I can." I lowered my voice. Instinctively, she ducked down her head to hear me. "And I bring a message from the grave," I whispered. The blades still whirred behind me.

"Bhaal has had His time. What can He say to me now?"

"Only this." I smiled. "He doesn't want His gift back. You should keep it."

And I plunged Bhaal's dagger deep into her eye. Let's see how _she_ liked it.

My blow was so strong that her eyeball practically exploded. More nasty on my face. I felt the hilt slam against her cheekbone. Blood and eye goo splashed over my gauntlet. She staggered back with a wail of pain, out of the fountain of power. I rode her down to the ground. The flying bone blades disappeared, absorbed in the tidal wave of golden glitter that roared over us. Amelyssan hit the ground with a thud like a felled tree and I was on top. My armored knees dug into her belly. She screamed again. Bhaal's blade had reached her brain, I was certain. Had to have. I ground it in deeper, just to be sure. And twisted. The wound was mortal. I knew it was. And still she screamed.

"Why won't you die?" I thought I sounded fairly calm and reasonable, considering.

"Begone!" a voice trumpeted. I snapped my head around, but the Solar faced the remaining demons. And it wasn't the bad Solar—it was our Solar. She lifted her hands and light burst from them in a clear white wave. Those demons who could still move gated themselves out. Amelyssan writhed beneath me.

The Solar strode toward me and looked down at us. "Amelyssan has welded Bhaal's essence to her soul. While she holds the essence, she is immortal."

"Am I glad to see you," I told the Solar. She didn't smile. Was that a celestial thing? At least Lathander could smile. "So what does that mean? What do we do now? Are you saying that even if I hack her into pieces, she will still live?"

"I. Am. A. Goddess!" Amelyssan panted.

"Well, hells," I muttered. "Someone fetch me my sword." I didn't think I could hack up a body with just a dagger, no matter how sharp. Not even with Bhaal's dagger, which was sharp as sin.

"Nay, Amelyssan the Black-Hearted," the Solar said. "You play with stolen energies that sustain your life but you are no goddess. The gods have decreed this contest over."

"Not. Over." She glared with her remaining eye. "Not!" She squirmed under me. I raised my hand to give her a clip but my arm was taken in a firm grip. Sarevok. He pulled me to my feet.

"I think we can leave her in the Solar's hands," he said. He looked down at me with an expression more than usually unreadable. I threw my arms around him. Our breastplates clanked.

"I saw you die," he said in my ear. "The taint poured out in a pillar of light. I saw you die."

"Lathander pulled a fast one during the Time Stop," I said. I could practically see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes.

"The Time Stop. Yes," he said. "I understand now." He looked over my shoulder at the Solar.

"You do understand?" she asked him.

He nodded to her. He might hide his expression but he couldn't hide all emotion from me. He couldn't hide his grief. I'm alive, I wanted to say. We've won. I squeezed him harder but his eyes never left the Solar. "I am certain you are about to explain the gods' will in this," he said.

Anomen limped towards us with Jaheira's support. His arm had not been set and his face was almost green with pain. Keldorn, Imoen, Balthazar—I would be hard pressed to say which of them looked the most battered or the most weary. I felt the dead numbness one feels after a great blow, the body's protection against the pain to come. But—we were alive. We had won. Hadn't we won? Wasn't that the gods' will? So why did I feel dread when I looked into Sarevok's eyes? Where was his happiness? Why did I feel dread coming from his very soul?

"Bhaal's essence, his taint, will be taken from Amelyssan and she will die, both body and soul," the Solar said. "The essence of a god cannot be destroyed. However it can be hidden upon Mount Celestial, where it will be kept safely and where it will not corrupt another mortal."

"Kept safely, huh?" Imoen muttered. "Like no one has ever stolen anything from the gods. Right." She shook her head at me. "Good to see you back, sis." I returned her smile.

"Great," I told the Solar. Behind us, the fountain of essence still ran bright in a glittering spray that went nowhere. "The sooner, the better." Amelyssan made some mewling protest we all ignored.

"Or," the Solar continued. "That essence can be given to one of Bhaal's children, who can then ascend to take His place amongst the gods."

"Don't look at me," I said. "I just got rid of it." But she didn't look at me. She didn't look at Imoen or Balthazar. She looked at Sarevok.

"We all got rid of it," Imoen said. She turned to Balthazar. "Right? You said we were the last of the Bhaalspawn. You didn't miscount, did you?"

"He didn't miscount," Sarevok said. "I have the essence Keeta shared when she animated me. 'Twas just a touch, a drop of Bhaal's taint. But I hold it still."

"A touch of the divine essence is all that is required," the Solar said.

"What?" I yelled. "What the hells? No! Let the Solar take it and hide it!"

"And if I refuse this dubious boon?" Sarevok asked the Solar.

"Then the spark of divinity will be removed from you."

"Aye," he said. "Speak so that she understands. Tell her what will happen when that last drop of taint is taken from me," he told the Solar. "For you must take it all, must you not? That is the gods' will in this."

"When the taint is removed, Sarevok will die," the Solar said. Sarevok nodded, unsurprised.

I turned in his arms to fully face the Solar. "Then you will bring him back to life. Resurrect him."

"It cannot be done, Keeta," he said. "I have had my miracle. Now my mortal time is done."

"That's our choice? You die or become a god?"

"How many choices did you think we would get?" His hands moved to my shoulders. I felt his grip tighten. "I—how bitter the irony. Once this was my dearest ambition and now—I do not want to leave my life! To be offered this power now, when I have finally learned not to covet it—how the gods must laugh."

"Don't!"

"I must, Keeta. We have been pushed and prodded towards this from the beginning. Bhaal's death, Cyric's theft of his place in the pantheon—the power shifts amongst the gods and they have worked to set a new balance. They have prepared me," he said bitterly. "Honed me, reaved me until I am shaped to their liking. Everything has led to this. Everything. You were a part of this." He squeezed my shoulders. "You were the biggest part of this. Our souls were yoked together like a teamster harnesses a hard-mouthed brute with a sweet-goer, in the hopes that the good will rub off on the bad."

"Before, you were unready," the Solar said.

"Unready," Sarevok snorted. "Unacceptable, you mean."

"We have watched," the Solar said. She denied nothing. Watched. Right. The gods didn't just watch. They moved us like puppets, like tokens on a game board. "And I am impressed with you, Sarevok, impressed enough that I will stay by your side, should you choose the path towards divinity. I will aid you however I can."

"Aid him? Right! You'll 'aid' him into doing exactly what your masters want him to do! This is wrong! This is unfair! After all we've done—"

"Hush, Keeta," Sarevok said.

"I won't hush!" He pulled me in close. "I won't!" But I did because I felt a great sobbing wail rise up in my chest and it stole my words.

"Well, big brother," Imoen said. "Are you going to be a god after all? It sure would have saved a lot of fuss and botheration if you'd done all this at Baldur's Gate."

"Indeed."

"Don't jest, child," Jaheira said.

"You will do it," I said in sudden fear. I turned and clutched his waist, stared up into those golden eyes. "You might not want godhood but you will take it. You won't choose to die."

He didn't immediately reply. He looked over my shoulder. I twisted to see that his gaze was locked, not with the Solar, but with Keldorn.

"Were I a better man, I might choose death, so that my soul could finally move on to whatever punishment or reward my deeds have earned it," he said. His mouth turned down in a bitter, self-mocking smile. "But the gods have chosen well in this. I must let go of this life but I am not willing to move on to what lies beyond it. I will ascend."

"You'll live," I said. I ignored Amelyssan's incoherent grunt.

Sarevok stepped out of my embrace and moved toward the Solar. "Heal them," he told her. She inclined her head and went to Anomen first. Already giving the orders, I saw.

"Well," I said. "This will take some getting used to." I didn't understand the look he gave me. He was going to live. We all were. It was finally over.

"Yes," he said in a low voice, for my ears only. "It is finally over."

"But when you are a god—you can still come to me. Right? You can speak to me in my dreams. You can send a—an avatar. Right?"

"Keeta." His gloved hands cradled my face. "When I step into that fountain yonder, I will become—something else. I will not be the Sarevok you know."

"I don't understand."

"I know. I'm not certain I do fully. But I do know this—this is our time for farewell. I must go on and you—you must go on as well. Your life stretches ahead of you and you are free at last of the destiny that has dogged you. That destiny is mine to take up now. You are free and I—I will take up new chains." I shook my head. "But it is well," he said. "It is well. You are safe and that is more than I had hoped for."

The Solar, her task complete, came to stand at Sarevok's side. Neither one of them seemed concerned that Amelyssan crawled towards the glowing fountain.

"Am I to fight Cyric?" he asked her. "Is that my task?"

"Cyric will see you as a threat," she said. "Cyric grows in power and it is said there is a prophecy that involves him—a catastrophe that may be averted."

"Not more prophecies," I muttered. "I guess you're going to have your hands full," I muttered a little louder. Sarevok gave me a semi-fond look but it was Keldorn he approached. Keldorn put out his hand and Sarevok clasped it.

"I owe you much," Sarevok said. "Yet I would ask one more thing. If Keeta must return to Amn to face these charges against her—I wish you to see her safe. See that she has a fair trial. See that she is not made a scapegoat."

"I will ensure that justice is done, to the best of my power."

"Justice," Sarevok growled. "I have little faith in justice."

"Do not worry," Keldorn said. "The false charges will be dropped. Her name will be cleared."

"See that it is so."

Jaheira and Balthazar stood silent. They exchanged nods with Sarevok, nothing more. Then Anomen moved toward him.

"I would ask you to look out for her," Sarevok said. "But I suspect I waste my words."

"I will look out for her," Anomen said.

"Good luck, brother, in the big whatever beyond," Imoen said. "If you decide to kill Cyric, I don't think any of us will cry too hard."

"Would that that was within my power," he murmured. He came, at last, back to me.

"You will come to me," I said. "After."

"You do not understand."

"But you do?"

"I understand this—as a new god, I will have many enemies, those who seek to take my power while I am weak and inexperienced. I will be challenged. And should our relationship be known—should our child's parentage be known—you both will be drawn into these struggles. I cannot allow that. I will not have the power to protect you, not at first, not for years perhaps."

"You've thought this through!"

"I'm thinking as fast as I can!" he said. His words were rueful but his eyes—his eyes were fearful. "I can't risk—"

"Losing your power?"

"Losing you!"

"But if we can't see each other or be together, then you are losing me."

"Don't make this more difficult, Keeta. To know that you are alive and well and happy—that is all I can aspire to now."

"I might be alive but I'll be damned if I'll be happy!"

"I have faith that in time you will."

"Faith? You?"

"See what you have brought me to," Sarevok said. He was trying to make me smile but I'd be damned if I would.

"Stop it. You could come in secret. In a dream. Something. You know you could. You'll be a god, damn you!"

"Keeta," Jaheira said. "Come, child, do not whine like a child bargaining for a later bedtime."

I scowled through my tears. "I'm not going to pray to you." Sarevok wrapped his arms around me. His head rested on mine.

"I do not expect it," he murmured. "Come now. Kiss me goodbye."

When I finally let him go, he turned toward the fountain. I was the only one to hear his sigh. He stepped over Amelyssan (who tried to grab his ankle as he passed) and in three long strides, reached the fountain of power. For just a heartbeat he hesitated and then he stepped into the light. He didn't look back. He looked ahead.

The power roared up then swirled around him in a glittering maelstrom that seared my eyeballs. His arms rose, reaching for something out of sight. His head fell back and the power streamed into him. Amelyssan shrieked as a golden torrent tore its way out her body to join with the power already in the fountain. Her body burned. The stench was horrible. The Solar gestured with both hands. A hole opened up in the floor beneath Amelyssan and swallowed her up.

The ground rumbled under my feet. Imoen swayed beside me. The very air felt charged. Imoen's hair began to rise in a crackling cloud.

Sarevok stood like a statue as the remaining taint poured into his body. It swirled, it burned and with a last brightening that stabbed into my eyes, the fountain was gone.

I blinked away tears of pain. His body glowed and then this glow was also all around us. The ground, the walls, the ceiling high above were freckled with grains of gold, glowing brighter and brighter. Again, the ground rumbled. Something touched me, feather-light, and yet I staggered backwards under its weight. Anomen put out his hand to catch me. _What?_ As soon as I thought the question, I knew the answer. It was the fragment of my soul, returned to me.

"**It is time for the mortals to leave the Throne of Blood**," a voice said. I could no longer see the Solar but only the rising tide of brightness. All I could see was its bright core, a figure that had once been my enemy and then my lover and was now something else. Sarevok was gone from me—gone on to his destiny. And now I would go on to mine. All I would have of Sarevok was the child we'd made between us and the memories of the time when I had carried divinity, when my soul had been tainted with evil and yet good had finally come from it.

We would be sent from this place, and return back to our old lives—out of the Abyss and into the world where the sun disappeared into night's darkness, as Sarevok had disappeared from my sight. The dying sun would be reborn as the dawn. And Sarevok would be reborn as something new. A god. He would be as far away as the heavens and as close as the soul we once shared.


End file.
